No One Said Being A Colonel Was Easy
by Basketballgirl Kaitlin
Summary: An ABC story. Colonel Hogan deals with more things than sabotage and espionage assignments everyday. He disciplines his men, gives advice to those in need, and tries to keep everyone calm when he can hardly do the same for himself. This story looks at the daily happenings of his life at Stalag 13 and how he manages to be the colonel we all know and love.
1. Antics

**A/N:** Hello, folks. This story is inspiration for me to continue writing and hopefully finishing my bigger project I'm currently working on by the end of January. I have finals this upcoming week starting tomorrow, then it's my birthday, Christmas, New Years, and after that I leave for my first vacation going on my own, so the posting schedule will be chaotic for a while. Bear with me as I try to keep organized myself. Hope you enjoy the first chapter of this story, and please leave reviews! I love reviews of all kinds. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year if I don't post again before then! :)

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 **Chapter 1:**

 **Antics:**

It was another average day at Stalag 13. Guards patrolling the perimeter, the prisoners giving Klink and Schultz grief, pulling practical jokes on one another, nothing was especially out of the ordinary. In barracks two, Kinch, Carter, and Kalina were all gathered around the main area table as LeBeau hovered over the stove cooking lunch. Kinch shuffled cards he was using for his game of solitaire, Kalina sat quietly knitting a blue scarf for Langenscheidt, and Carter was messing around with a model rocket kit he had gotten in his recent Red Cross package. All was calm and collected, when the door to the barracks slammed opened, and Newkirk came bolting in. He quickly closed the door behind him and began to crawl underneath Carter's bunk bed.

The trio at the table and LeBeau all turned to the English corporal raising their eyebrows at him. Speaking for all of them, the technical sergeant cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

"Hey, Newkirk? What are you doing climbing under our bunks?"

Newkirk put his fingers to his lips and hushed him.

"If the Gov'nor asks, I fled camp and went to China," he answered, sliding himself further under the furniture.

"Did you break his drumsticks he got signed from Gene Krupa's band again?" Kinch asked, knowing his friend had yet again made another dumb move.

" _Worse_...and that was _one_ time, mate," Newkirk said, defending himself.

"What did you do then?" Kalina asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

Before he could answer, the five of them heard the doorknob begin to click, and Newkirk disappeared beneath the bunks without a second thought. The door soon again opened, and Colonel Robert Hogan himself stepped inside. His eyebrows were narrowed, a tight thin line for his mouth, and his eyes clearly expressed that he was irritated. He turned to his team members at the table, sensing by their expressions they already knew what he was going to ask them.

"Under the bunk, Colonel," The radioman said, exchanging glances with his commander.

"No, he's not, Colonel Hogan. He left camp and said he was going to China," the Englishman's voice said from beneath the bed, poorly imitating Kalina's voice.

"I do _not_ sound like General Burkhalter!" The teenager replied, turning her head back.

The colonel had his arms crossed and rolled his eyes in response. He knew the 'hiding under the bunk' trick all too well. He had seen many of his comrades do it back in the States when they had upset their drill sergeant. He had never fallen for the 'deserted' excuse since.

"Newkirk, I know you're under there," he said, his tone terse. He watched as his English corporal emerged from underneath the bunk and glared at the leading sergeant.

"Thanks a bunch, Kinch." Newkirk grumbled.

Hogan fixed his posture, put a fist on his hip, and cleared his throat to grab the man's attention.

"Newkirk, what is this?" He asked, holding up a rat by the tail. The first reaction he received was Kalina shooting to her feet making a blood curdling screech.

" _Ratte! Ratte! Ratte_!" She cried.

"Relax, Kalina," Hogan said, his tone remaining the same. He was not putting up with anymore antics. Not after getting chewed out by Klink and not able to weasel his way out of punishment, which he found more than unjust for a stupid prank. "It's fake."

"Where did you find _that_?" LeBeau asked.

"I _didn't_ find it. Klink found it in his bathroom earlier this morning...and I have a feeling I know who put it there." The colonel replied, turning his eyes back to Newkirk.

"I thought it'd be funny," the corporal said.

"For _you_ , maybe. You realize your stupid prank got me suspended of all my recreational privileges for one month? I can't even go outside the barracks for the next 72 hours."

"Get a chance to sleep in," Carter answered.

Hogan slowly turned his eyes to the young man, who almost immediately diverted his eyes back to the model rocket in his hands. Once certain the sergeant would not speak again, he made his eyes back to Newkirk.

"I want you to go to Klink's office this minute and tell him _you_ were behind all of this, got it?"

"Yes, Sir," Newkirk said sadly. He hung his head and sulked towards the door before Hogan stopped him.

"Put it down, Newkirk." He warned, knowing the rubber rat was back in his possession. He heard the man give a heavy sigh, gently threw the toy back onto the table, then left without another word. When he was gone, the colonel let out a breath of air and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the tension of his job going from his neck and back up into his head causing him a major migraine. He picked up the rat from the table and placed it into LeBeau's hands. "Burn that in the stove, LeBeau, will you?"

" _Oui, Colonel_ ," the Frenchman answered, with a nod.

"Good...now if you excuse me, I need to go lie down for a while. All of Newkirk's recent practical jokes are giving me a ginormous headache."

Hogan walked to his room, opened the door, and was about to step inside when he paused and looked back at Kinch.

"Hey, Kinch," he said.

"What is it, Colonel?" The staff sergeant remarked.

"Go see if you can't find a massage therapist in one of the barracks? _Someone's_ gotta be around here."

"Sure thing, Sir. I'll do that the minute I finish this game of mine."

Hogan sighed and rubbed the side of his pounding head with his fingers.

"I sometimes wonder _why_ I chose to become a military officer...why didn't I just go to medical school like my mother wanted me to?"


	2. Bombs

**Chapter 2:**

 **Bombs:**

"See this nob here?" Carter asked, pointing to the hand grenade he held. He had just finished making a batch of newly designed bombs for an upcoming assignment in his lab. Hogan had been curious the minute he heard about the experiment, and he followed his demolitions expert down into the tunnels for a demonstration. So far, he had been extremely impressed with his young chemist. "This makes these grenades unique from the ones you're used to seeing, Colonel. Instead of pulling up on the switch, you turn it four times to the right. Think of it as the safety on a gun you would use on an assignment. If you yank up on it, nothing happens. But if you were to turn it, you got about 15 seconds to get away before this sucker blows up everything around it."

"And if we replaced all the grenades the Krauts have with these, they would have nothing but duds because they would be activating it wrong," Hogan said, a wide grin coming across his face. Once again, the young man had proven himself to why he was the only one qualified to be his demolitions expert. The way his mind worked amazed the colonel immensely.

"Right, Sir."

"Carter, you're beautiful. When Newkirk and LeBeau distract the truck driver, you and Kinch replace the crates in back with ones full of these, and the Allies might be kissing goodbye an entire Kraut division on the Eastern Front."

"Actually, I'd prefer if I _didn't_ kiss a Kraut?"

Hogan chuckled and patted the young man's shoulder. He and Kalina always managed to give him a smile somehow. Their senses of humor and occasional naivety made them both funny and gentle souls at the same time. Sure they were both just kids practically still, but did they sure do a lot of adult like things and act immensely mature when called for it. He could not have been more proud of them. He was proud of his _entire_ team. They were the best group of people he had ever met and worked with, and he hoped they knew that, too. He simply _led_ them to victory. _They_ were the ones who actually made up the operation.

As the two were about to leave Carter's lab to gather up a few crates, Newkirk walked inside with a lit cigarette and made his way to their side.

"Colonel, the Komman…" before the Englishman could finish his thought, the colonel grabbed the cigarette out of his hand and stomped on it to put it out. He looked back up at the corporal.

"What did I tell you about smoking down here?" Hogan asked.

"You said I could smoke as long as I weren't near any explosives or ammunition!" Newkirk remarked, seeming to not comprehend what the problem was.

Hogan cocked his head to the left and pointed to the technical sergeant's lab table. Newkirk looked over and saw several grenades lying there. His cheeks turned red and looked back up at his commander.

"Oh," he said. "Sorry, Gov'nor. I didn't realize they were lying there...wait a minute." He looked back at Carter's table and picked up one of the grenades. "What the bloody hell is wrong with this thing? Don't look like any grenade _I've_ ever seen before."

Hogan chuckled, his arms crossed.

"That, Newkirk my boy, is Carter's groundbreaking invention to stopping our neighborly Krauts on the Front. That isn't an ordinary grenade," he answered.

"What, it shoots out water instead or something?" The Englishman remarked, his eyebrows contorted with confusion.

"No, that sucker will definitely blow you up if activated."

"Then what the hell's so special about this thing?"

The colonel gave a light sigh and shook his head while wearing a small smile. _Must I tell you everything, boy_ , he thought to himself.

"Try to pull up on that knob," he said. When he saw his corporal's eyes widen in horror, it took every bit of strength inside him to keep himself from laughing.

"Gov'nor, are yah out of your bloody mind?! You want me to activate a live bomb underneath the…" Hogan cut Newkirk off.

"Just try pulling on it."

Newkirk gave a shaky sigh, and Hogan watched as he attempted to pull up on the grenade's knob. Nothing. He tried a bit harder. Still nothing. By the time he began yanking at the thing, the American officer could not contain himself. He began to smirk and placed a hand over his mouth. He could not help but find the man's frustration amusing. He just loved messing with one of his men sometimes. It reminded him of the many times he had made Klink look like a fool for misleading him. His chuckling was greeted by a glare from Newkirk.

"Alright, what's so bleedin' funny?" He asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Hogan answered, calming down. "What you just attempted to do is what makes those different from regular grenades. You don't pull up on it to activate the timer; you turn the knob four times like you would to turn on a garden hose. When we all go out tonight to stop that grenade supply, you and LeBeau will distract the driver while Carter and Kinch replace the grenades in back with crates filled with these instead. That way when they arrive to Russian Front, the Krauts won't be able to get them to work. Then our guys can come in for an attack, and the Germans will never know what hit them."

"That means these things could wipe out an entire division." The corporal replied, looking back down at the small explosive he held.

"That's what we hope happens," Hogan said, with a wide grin and nod.

Newkirk's eyes twinkled with mischief as the same grin came across his face.

"Gov'nor, you're brilliant, Sir," he said.

"Don't look at me. Carter was the one who came up with the idea. I just told him to make a bunch of duds."

"If that's true, then why did yah make them actually explosive, Andrew?"

"Wouldn't it be amusing knowing these actually work, but the Krauts assume otherwise?" Carter responded, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Newkirk turned to his commander and pointed at the young man.

"Where'd London find him; Bedlam?" He remarked.

The colonel rolled his eyes playfully while shaking his head. _Ah, my boys_ , he thought to himself. _You never cease to amuse me_. Remembering what he began saying when entering the room, Hogan turned to back at the Englishman.

"Newkirk, what was it you wanted to tell me earlier? Something about the Kommandant."

"Oh yeah," Newkirk answered. "Klink's looking for yah, Colonel."

"What for?" Hogan remarked.

"I don't know, Sir, but Schultz made it sound as if he's awful mad about something."

Hogan let out a heaving sigh. And he had been such a happy mood, too. Of course Klink had to go and ruin it. He was exceptional at that skill. Right up there with Burkhalter and Hochstetter, who topped both Luftwaffe officers.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going. Help Carter start packing those up into crates. I'll be back to check on you two in a little bit," he said.

"Right, Sir." Newkirk replied.

"You got it, boy. Sir," Carter said, quickly correcting himself.

The colonel saluted his men, who returned the same gestured, then he turned on his heels and headed for the ladder.


	3. Camp Shenanigans

**Chapter 3:**

 **Camp Shenanigans:**

Hogan sat in his quarters carefully looking over maps and a new code book the underground wanted him to memorize for future assignments. He focused tediously on each road, river, and coordinate plotted, but he could not help himself but feel bored. He was not a man that liked sitting and doing paperwork eight hours a day, five days a week. Well...in his case... _seven_ days a week. He preferred much more to be on his feet doing something or talking to someone regarding work. He loved being a colonel, but he could have lived without this part of his job. It reminded him too much of all those nights back in college where he sat in his room doing homework or studying for huge exams.

As he continued to bore himself to tears, he was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. Thank God, he thought to himself. Someone to distract him.

"Come in," he said, looking at the door.

He watched it open to reveal LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk, and Kinch standing there. They walked in with mischievous grins to their faces and closed the door behind them. Puzzled, Hogan immediately sensed something was up and raised an eyebrow in suspicion. He knew they were up to something, and he was going to get to the bottom of it all.

"Alright," he began. "What did you four do _now_?"

"Nothing yet," LeBeau answered, his arms behind his back.

"You boys are up to something. Out with it. What is it?"

"We wanna play a prank on one of the guards, Sir." Newkirk explained.

"And we want your help with coming up with an idea." Kinch added.

The colonel furrowed his eyebrows together. He was intrigued to learn more, but cautious at the same time. It had to be something harmless, and something that would not anger Klink so much that it would land all of them in the cooler. He had a brief moment of wondering whether they should do a prank at all, but quickly dismissed it. Nothing exciting had happened in the past week, and he could use a little entertainment besides sitting in his room looking over charts and code words.

"Prank, huh?" He asked. "What kind of prank did you have in mind?"

"Well we all know that Sergeant Dörnberg is ridiculously afraid of spiders, so we were wondering if you knew of a way to use that for a prank," Newkirk said.

Hogan pursed his lips together and thought about it for a moment. When he thought of something, he turned back to look at his men.

"Any of you have a rubber spider that looks real? Could put it in his quarters before he goes to bed and crawl in to find it hiding under his covers," he suggested.

"No, we thought of that already. That's too easy, Colonel. We want something more original than that," LeBeau said.

Hogan went back into his thinking mode and began tapping his fingers on his desktop. When that did not work, he put his arm around his belly and propped his other arm on top of it so he could place his hand over his mouth and tap his finger. When another idea hit him, he made an evil grin, and his brown eyes twinkled brightly.

"I know that look, Sir, you got something, don't you," Kinch said, smiling back at his commander.

"You better believe I do," the colonel answered. He felt his idea was genius. It was original, creative, and absolutely hilarious if they were able to pull it off correctly. He could not wait for his men to see what he had in store for them. They would all die when the events unfolded before their eyes.

"What is it, boy? I mean Sir," Carter said.

Hogan rose to his feet, walked to his room door, then gestured for them to follow with the wave of his pointer finger. The five of them walked out of Hogan's quarters and out of the barracks into the compound.

"Where is he?" The colonel asked, referring to Dörnberg.

"Over there by barracks eight taking a snooze, why?" Newkirk asked, pointing to the right.

Hogan looked over in the direction his Englishman was pointing in and found the German with his helmet covering his eyes and softly snoring. He looked back at his French corporal.

"LeBeau, go crawl silently under the bench and keep your eyes over here. I'll signal you what to do when time's right," he ordered.

" _Oui, Colonel_ ," he answered, and followed his commander's request. When he was completely out of sight, he stuck his hand out quickly and gave a thumbs up.

Hogan nodded, then looked at Carter.

"Carter, you have a pet spider somewhere, don't you?" He asked.

The young sergeant frowned.

"Not anymore. _Someone_ had to go and squish him." He grumbled, glaring in Newkirk's direction.

"I said I was sorry," Newkirk remarked.

"Fine, then _pretend_ you have a pet spider. Go wake up Dörnberg, tell him you lost him somewhere in camp, and if he's possibly seen him crawling around," Hogan said, quickly putting an end to an oncoming argument he felt on the horizon. He swore those two argued with one another as much as Newkirk did with LeBeau.

"Right, Colonel," the technical sergeant answered, and went on his way while the remaining three watched from afar.

Carter made his way over to the sleeping guard and stopped when he was just inches away from the man.

"Uh...Sergeant Dörnberg Sir?" He asked.

Dörnberg stirred from sleep with a short yelp, straightened his helmet, and frowned when he spotted the American.

"Ah, it's just you. What do you want, American? I'm very busy at the moment," the German said.

"Well, yah see, uh...I lost my pet spider, Melvin, and I was wondering if you hadn't seen him around anywhere. He's small and gray, not any bigger than a dime. Very friendly, too. Boy, does he sure make good company." Carter continued.

Dörnberg's eyes dilated twice in size at the word 'spider' and began to shiver.

"Spider?" He questioned. " _What_ spider?"

As Carter thought of an answer to give, Hogan turned to look at where LeBeau was located. He made a wiggling motion with his fingers going up and down while gesturing with his head to the left. His Frenchman must have gotten the message, because the next thing they all saw was Dörnberg jerking a little in his spot. Something was crawling up his leg. Crawling. Leg. Spider.

"SPIDER! SPIDER! _HERR KOMMANDANT_ , SPIDER!" The guard shrieked, running to his commander's office in a raging fit.

The minute Dörnberg slammed the office door behind him, Hogan and his men split their sides laughing. So much that the colonel eventually had to put his hand on his middle from it hurting so much. He was in tears by how much he and everyone else were laughing. By the time he had settled down enough to breathe regularly, LeBeau and Carter had joined them again.

"Colonel, that was _brilliant_ , Sir," Kinch said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Oh man, that just made me year, Gov'nor." Newkirk added, trying to calm down.

"Him crying to Klink was the icing on the cake," Hogan answered.

"Kommandant! Kommandant! Save me, _Herr Kommandant_!" Newkirk and LeBeau wailed, mocking Dörnberg.

And with that, the five of them resumed laughing hysterically.


	4. Death

**Chapter 4:**

 **Death:**

The first thing Hogan saw when his vision came in clearly was a tile ceiling with a dim light coming from behind him. A window with halfway closed blinds was to his right along with a nightstand and lamp. Realizing he was in a bed and hearing a machine beeping, he turned his head slowly to the left. He saw himself connected to an EKG machine and an IV in his hand, which rested gently on his swollen belly. His stomach felt tight and softly rubbed his middle as he tried to recall any recent events. He was definitely in a hospital room, but how did he get there was what he could not remember. The last thing in his mind was him taking a simple stroll around camp. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a short walk through Stalag 13 to see what his men were up to. The next thing he remembered was seeing the new guard in camp, Corporal Rothmann, struggling to learn how to fire his new rifle. Schultz was desperately trying to instruct the man to fire upward if he wanted to practice shooting, but the young corporal was confident in his skills that he would be able to practice without actually firing the gun. Then it all came back to him. He could not see any of it, but he remembered hearing all of the chaos around him.

Rothmann had accidentally slipped his finger on the trigger when he had not been ready and pressed down on it to make the weapon actually fire. The bullet had come directly at Hogan, and he collapsed to the ground unconscious with a severe burning sensation inside his belly. He could hear Schultz and Klink hollering commands in German, his men yelling at him to wake up, Kalina crying and begging for him to open his eyes. Everything after that was completely black.

His eyes felt heavy. His body was worn and tired. He closed his eyes and began to drift off back to sleep, when he heard the door to his room open. He opened one eye to find it was his good friend and fellow ally, Dr. Richard Klaussner checking on him. The old man looked delighted to see him awake. (1)

"Robert, you're awake. _Danke, mein Gott_ , I thought we lost you," he said, with relief.

Hogan swallowed a knot in his dry throat and answered in a soft, raspy tone.

"What happened?...How did I get here?"

"There was a horrible accident back at Stalag 13. The new guard there was practicing firing his new rifle, but his finger slipped and shot the gun when he wasn't ready. The bullet hit you directly in your diaphragm and caused a heavy amount of bleeding. You needed three blood transfusions during surgery and almost crashed twice on us. You're a lucky son of a gun to be alive right now. Had that bullet gone any higher, it would have fatally wounded one of your lungs or heart. Robert, you could have _died_ on that operating table by how bad you were wounded."

"That explains why my stomach feels so tight," Hogan answered, rubbing his belly again.

"I know you're probably exhausted, but would you be up for a couple visitors? Poor little Kalina's been crying since you were brought in, and I think Newkirk's ready to strangle the entire hospital staff if he doesn't find out if you're alright."

The colonel lightly smirked. That sounded like his English corporal alright. Never ceasing to get the information he desired from someone. The skill made him exceptionally well with espionage assignments.

"Send them in, Richard. I'd like to see them, too."

Klaussner nodded while wearing a warm grin, then opened the door to his room to allow Kinch, Newkirk, and Kalina entrance inside. Both Kinch and Newkirk sighed with relief as Kalina went charging for him.

"Colonel," the sergeant gasped. "Oh, thank God, you made it out of surgery."

Klink's daughter slowed when she came to Hogan's side and wrapped her arms around his neck as she began to sob.

"Colonel Hogan…" she wept. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Hogan smiled weakly and wrapped his arms gently around her.

"I'm alright. I'm gonna be alright," he said sincerely.

"Blimey, Gov'nor, don't do that to us again. Yah nearly scared me to death!" Newkirk exclaimed quietly.

"I'm scared I almost _saw_ death," the colonel replied. "It made me realize just how unprepared I am to die yet."

"I don't _want_ you to die. I want you to live forever." Kalina whimpered.

Hogan gave another smirk.

"I can't promise you _that_ , but I promise to stay around for as long as I can...gonna take a whole lot more to kill me off than one little bullet," he said.

"How long's it gonna be until he's back on his feet, Richard?" Kinch asked, turning his eyes to the medic.

"With a diaphragm injury as bad as _his_? Could be _months_ before he's feeling like himself again. It depends on the person and their immune system. Colonel Hogan's medical history is fairly good, so I hope that has some influence on his recovery. I must keep him here for observation for a week before I can clear him to go home, however." Klaussner explained.

"But he'll be okay?" Kalina asked, wiping her wet eyes.

"Don't worry, hon," Hogan answered. "I'm gonna be okay."

"By how miraculous he's been doing so far, I have no doubt that he'll make a full recovery," Klaussner said, with a smile and nod.

The colonel returned the same smile, then made his eyes towards the small teenager sitting by his legs. He gently patted her hand. He could not do much at the moment to make up for scaring her so bad, but it was a start. He was at least glad to see her muscles had loosened up a bit and seemed to be more at ease. He never liked seeing her so frightened by something, including himself nearly dying right before hers and everyone else's eyes. Thankfully, he had been able to pull through and would keep his promise not only to Kalina, but to the rest of his men. They needed him still, and he was not leaving them just yet. He had to make their lives miserable for a little while longer before doing so.

"You think you can keep these guys out of trouble while I'm off my feet?" Hogan asked Kalina.

The teenager's response was a little giggle and eager nod.

"You got it, Colonel Hogan. I'll make sure they know how to stay in line," she said.

Hogan gave a light chuckle.

"Good. 'Cause they're certainly a handful."

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(1) Dr. Richard Klaussner is a character I created myself. He first appears in my story "Hogan's Heroes: Finding the Silver Lining"


	5. Escapes

**Chapter 5:**

 **Escapes:**

It was a calm, cool night at Stalag 13. The weather was a bit chilly, but not uncomfortably cold. It made for a nice night to open the windows in the prisoners' barracks and let the slight breeze come rolling in. That's what Hogan did, at least. He slept in complete tranquility while listening to the soft whisper of the wind coming inside his room. He was covered up snug tight in his blankets and let his body fall limp. He had been up until about 3:00AM the previous night going on an assignment with Kinch and LeBeau, so he had only gotten about two hours of sleep. Tonight, he had been lucky enough to turn in at 11:00PM.

All was serene and quiet, when he heard an alarm start ringing throughout camp. Hogan's eyes flashed open and groaned as he rolled onto his back. Another escape attempt. Just what he needed. Klink would be all over them tomorrow morning at roll call.

"Uh, what _now_?" The American grumbled, as he jumped down from his bunk and put on his socks and slippers. He wrapped his white bathrobe around him, tied it tight, and wandered out of barracks two to see what all the commotion was about. Dogs were barking, guards were sprinting, he then spotted the tower light shining at someone standing by the fence with his hands up. He instantly knew it was one of his men based on the uniform he wore. He walked over and saw it was the new prisoner in camp, Private Wilbur Gipson. He had just turned 22 and was scared mindless of the Germans. Seeing how bad he was shaking surrounded by four guards armed and ready, Hogan knew he had to step in and handle the issue. He walked in between the guards and headed for his man, when the Kommandant himself came walking out of his quarters to where Schultz was standing watching the whole thing unravel before him.

"What is this?!" Klink bellowed, shaking his fist in fury. He was standing there in his pajamas, slippers, and trench coat buttoned up. His monocle was slightly crooked, appearing to just have gotten out of bed as well.

" _Herr Kommandant_ , this man was trying to jump over the fence," Schultz reported.

"Aw, come on, man. I gotta girl waiting for me back in Liverpool." Gipson whined, dropping a pillowcase filled with his few belongings in it.

"Gipson, what did I tell you about escaping?" Hogan began, speaking before Klink had the chance to answer. "Didn't I say Colonel Klink has never had a successful escape during his time here?"

"I was gonna come back after Valentine's Day was over," the private said.

Hogan, with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes and shook his head. _Sure_ , he thought. _Because Klink's surely gonna fall for **that**_ _excuse_.

"Enough!" Klink commanded, then turned to his head sergeant. "Schultz, take this man to the cooler for a seven day holding."

" _Jawohl, Herr Kommandant_ ," Schultz answered, with a sharp salute.

"Now wait just a minute, Kommandant, seven days is awful harsh for a person's first time at escaping. He's only been here for two weeks after all. He hasn't learned all the ins and outs of your camp yet," Hogan said, defending Gipson.

"Then he shall learn in solitary confinement just what kind of camp I run. Schultz, dismissed."

"Come on, Kommandant, poor kid's terrified! Can't you just let him off with a one time warning?"

"A warning! Hogan, what kind of place do you think this is; a daycare?"

"What do you think General Burkhalter's going to say when he finds out you've been making the Luftwaffe a fool for violating sections in the Geneva Convention?"

"I'm not afraid of…" The German colonel fell silent briefly before giving a sigh of surrender. "Alright, I'll let him off with a warning. But I won't be as lenient as next time!"

"You're a good man, Sir...Come on, Gipson. Sleep easy, Kommandant."

Klink shook his fist and gave a loud 'humph' as Hogan and Gipson made their way back for barracks two.

As the two Americans continued on their trek, the private turned to look up at the colonel in amazement.

"Colonel Hogan, that was _outstanding_! How did you manage to get him to…" Hogan cut him off.

"Keep walking. We have a conversation of our _own_ coming up when we get back to the barracks."

Gipson's shoulders sagged, and he hung his head.

"Yes, Sir," he answered sadly.

The two looked back to what was ahead of them and continued walking.


	6. Fear

**A/N:** Shout-out to my little readers. If you're afraid of ghosts, do not read this chapter. Heck, if you're an _adult_ and don't like ghosts, don't read this chapter. As always, please leave a review for me at the end of reading this. Hope you enjoy and wish me luck on the rest of my finals. I'm giving a presentation tomorrow in front of seven Deans of my school, and Wednesday is my last exam!

* * *

 **Chapter 6:**

 **Fear:**

"I'm not going in there, Colonel," LeBeau said, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Come on, LeBeau. Surely you don't believe one little rumor," Hogan answered, trying to reason with his Frenchman.

" _Non_ , I am not going in there! Corporal McKinley said once you go in, you _never_ come back out again."

Hogan let out a heavy sigh and tried to think of a solution as they stood outside the barren barracks four. LeBeau had heard rumors for the past four days from other men in camp about why Klink never put a prisoner in the building. Most claimed someone had died in there two months before the Kommandant had arrived for assigned duty, and the dead spirit now haunted the place. The rest of them were that a prisoner had been murdered in there one night by another prisoner that had gone nuts after serving 72 hours in solitary confinement. His spirit now killed anyone that entered inside as revenge for taking his life away. Either way, LeBeau had spent the last few days waking up from nightmares, cautiously avoiding going anywhere near barracks four, and had even sprinkled salt all around barracks two one night after hearing a strange noise nearby. But the colonel was determined to prove the rumors wrong. He would show LeBeau that barracks four was just another building in camp that Klink just had no use for currently and not haunted by some angry spirit.

"Look," he began, turning back to his corporal. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll go in there with you. There are no such things as ghosts, LeBeau."

LeBeau immediately hushed him.

"Colonel," he whispered, in terror. "Do not say such things. You will make them angry."

Hogan rolled his eyes and opened the door. He walked right in as if it were his own barracks, but stopped when LeBeau cried his name.

"Colonel!" The Frenchman chased after his commander and gripped onto his arm the minute he was inside the building. "Get out of here, Colonel Hogan, _please_! He does not like visitors and will never let us leave if we do not do so now."

"LeBeau, for the last time I'm telling you there are no such things as…" The American paused when a loud bang was heard from behind them. Both men turned their eyes to the front and saw the door had closed on its own. Hogan's eyes grew in size, and a nasty chill began to run up and down his spine as he gulped. "Ghosts." He finished.

"He's here!" LeBeau gasped. "He's trapped us inside!"

"Oh, calm down. It was probably just the wind," Hogan said, walking to the door. He grabbed the knob and pulled the door towards him, but it would not open. He yanked the knob harder and tugged on it a few times before banging on the door itself a couple more. He turned to face his Frenchman while keeping his own fear in check. If he began to panic, LeBeau would begin to panic. He could not handle two people freaking out at once. He swallowed again before speaking again. "It's locked."

"I told you, Sir, this place is haunted. No one will ever see us again!"

"The door's just probably stuck. Kinch or someone will notice we're missing and come looking for us. They wouldn't just leave us in here...right?"

As LeBeau was about to answer, both of them began to hear a faint moaning noise that sounded nearby. The corporal froze in his spot, while the colonel's jaw slightly dropped and slowly looked around in horror. He saw nothing, but knew something was definitely there. He licked his suddenly dry lips and used every last inch of strength inside him to not scream for help.

"What is that?" He asked. "Who are you?"

The noise continued to ring out through the barracks with the sound of something thudding now added. LeBeau latched onto his commander for dear life and began to chatter his teeth together.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Hogan again demanded.

No one answered, but the moaning and thudding continued. When it began to grow louder, Hogan's own teeth began to chatter. _He was right_ , he thought to himself. There were such things as ghosts. He had only ever believed in angels up until that point. Now he was realizing there were bad spirits out there as well. All those stupid ghost stories he had heard at band camp back in high school were true. And he and LeBeau were about to _become_ one of those ghost stories.

As he latched onto LeBeau, closed his eyes, and prepared for the worst, the door slammed open. Both men screamed at the top of their lungs, making Schultz, the man behind the door, scream in response. Once they realized who it was, Hogan and LeBeau both let out a sigh of relief. The colonel placed a hand over his pounding chest as the French corporal hung his head back and said a silent 'thank you' to God.

"What are you two doing in here? Don't you boys know this barracks is haunted?" The fluffy sergeant scolded.

"I was trying to show LeBeau that that whole rumor about this place being haunted was a phony," Hogan answered, slowly catching his breath again.

"Oh, it is anything _but_ phony. I _myself_ got stuck in here one night. Had it not been for Corporal Langenscheidt, I don't know _what_ might have happened. Just before he opened the door, I saw this man's spirit holding a knife appear and…" Schultz was cut off by a frantic Hogan.

"You know what, Schultz, that sounds like a fascinating story, but we're in a hurry. I think LeBeau and I are just gonna spend the rest of the day in the barracks."

" _Oui. Au revoir_ , Schultzie!" LeBeau cried, with a nod, then the two Allied flyers sprinted back for their barracks. Once they were in the safety of barracks two, Hogan slammed the door behind him and leaned against it once again trying to catch his breath. When he finally caught it, he turned to the corporal.

"LeBeau," he began. "You remember how I told you I didn't believe in ghosts?"

" _Oui, Colonel_ ," LeBeau answered.

The American nodded rapidly.

"I do now."


	7. Grounded Flyers

**Chapter 7:**

 **Grounded Flyers:**

Hogan stood quietly as he looked down at the unconscious American captain lying on the cot in the radio room. Coming back from an espionage assignment the previous night, he, Newkirk, and Carter had spotted the captain's plane being shot down and him parachuting out to safety. When they found him, he was unconscious after they assumed he had hit his head on one of the tree branches on the tree he had landed nearby. They had brought him back to camp and had him checked out by camp medic Sergeant Wilson. After being cleared of any major injuries, Hogan gave the orders for his men to keep watch on the captain for any signs of him waking up at all times. It was after morning roll call when the colonel himself finally got to see him again and check on how he was doing.

He was about to head upstairs to send Baker down, when he heard footsteps from behind him. It was just Kinch joining him at his side.

"Anything, Sir?" The radioman asked.

Hogan sighed.

"No, still hasn't made a move or sound," he answered.

"Been almost six hours now."

"I know...it makes me wonder just how hard he hit his head when falling. If it was hard enough, he could be in a coma for awhile."

"Joe said he didn't have any major injuries, though."

"To the rest of his body. He can't tell if he has any severe injuries to his brain until he wakes up...whenever _that_ may be."

Kinch looked back at the unconscious man and spotted him softly jerking his head around. He gave a low groan, which then caught Hogan's attention. The colonel leaned forward and gently shook the captain by his shoulders.

"Captain?" He asked. "Captain. Captain, wake up...Can you hear me, Captain?"

The captain slowly fluttered his eyes open with a groan, then shot up in his spot banging Hogan's head in the process. The colonel moaned, putting his fingers to his forehead, as the lower ranking officer looked around frantically.

"What happened?! Where am I?!" He screamed. He reached over to his right and kept leaning over until he fell to the ground with a yelp.

Hogan rubbed his aching head while grimacing before looking down at the man before his feet. The captain looked at him briefly, seemed to instantly realize the rank Hogan held, and quickly got to his feet. He let out a few sharp breaths before again speaking.

"Who are you? What do you want with me? I don't know anything, I swear!"

"Easy, Captain. No one's gonna hurt you down here," the colonel answered calmly.

"Down here," the captain said. "Where is 'down here'?"

"You're underneath a POW camp that runs an underground operation beneath the Krauts' noses. I'm afraid you're grounded until we can get you transportation to London."

" _Grounded_! What the hell do you mean 'I'm grounded'?! Who are you two anyways?!"

"This is my second in command, Sergeant Kinchloe, and I'm Colonel Hogan. Also known as the one and only Papa Bear."

The captain's eyes widened wider till the point Hogan thought they would fall out of the man's head.

"Pa, Pa, _Papa Bear? The_ Papa Bear?" He gasped.

That question got a chuckle out of the colonel. He found it amusing at times when people went into shock after finding out who he really was. The look on their faces never got old to him.

"Surprised?" Hogan responded.

"Yes. I mean no. I mean yes, I mean...I thought you were an old gruffy man working disguised as a German officer," the captain said.

Hogan laughed at that one. That was the first time he had heard someone say what they had pictured him to look like in his mind.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he said friendly. "I'll reimburse you after the war is over."

"So," Kinch began. "Who are _you_? All we know is your rank currently."

"Captain James Wilder. Commander of the 576th," the captain said.

"The 576th, huh?" Hogan asked, the squadron immediately ringing a bell in his head. He knew quite a bit about them and was mighty impressed with their work and success rates on sabotage assignments. "You guys have been destroying German power plants near the Russian Front like saying the ABC's."

Wilder blushed and gave a short chuckle.

"I'm very selective when recruiting my men, Colonel. I only take those that are seriously committed to fighting and understand the risks when fighting in combat. They say my squadron is near impossible to become a part of. They would be very true with their assumptions, too." He replied.

"Sounds like a high school senior trying to get accepted into Stanford." Kinch commented.

Hogan smirked, then returned his eyes to Wilder.

"We'll contact London and schedule for a rendezvous with an underground agent at a later time to get you out of Germany. Until that date comes, you'll have to stay down here for security reasons. If one of the Krauts caught you wandering around above ground, our entire operation would be put in jeopardy and so would your own life." The colonel explained.

"Roger that, Colonel. Just give me the word, and I'll do so as told...I do have just _one_ question, though," Wilder said.

"And what might that be, Captain?" Hogan asked, crossing his arms.

"Do you know where a guy can get a decent cup of coffee around here?"


	8. Hugs

**Chapter 8:**

 **Hugs:**

Hogan paced back and forth across the main area of the barracks with arms behind his back. Where were they, he wondered. Kalina and Newkirk had left four hours earlier to meet with an underground agent for an espionage assignment, and they had yet to come back. It should not take four hours to scope out a ball bearing plant going under construction and make note of the security around the place. He was beginning to worry something awful had gone wrong. Were they caught and taken into custody by the Gestapo? Were one of them hurt or worse? He could not handle not knowing. He was about to go down into the radio room and order Carter and LeBeau to go on a search and rescue mission, when the fake bunk slammed opened revealing the hidden tunnel entrance. Kalina came bolting out from below the ground and ran to Hogan's room sobbing uncontrollably. She was shortly followed after by both Newkirk and Kinch, wearing heartbroken expressions on their faces.

"Kalina," Newkirk called out. "Kalina, little mate!"

The colonel's quarters door closed shut with a loud 'bang', and Hogan turned to his men with genuine concern in his eyes.

"Is everything alright? What's wrong with Kalina?" He asked.

Kinch let out a heavy sigh and looked at his commander.

"Red Robin didn't make it, Colonel," he said softly.

Hogan's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped a bit.

"He...but _how_? You three were just observing from afar." The officer gasped, turning to Newkirk for an explanation.

"Red Robin wanted a closer look at the plant to give you a better report, Gov'nor. Kalina went to join him while I kept lookout from behind a couple large trees...Everything had gone just as planned until they turned around to come back to me. There was a hidden alarm system on the ground, and the wires must have been slippery from all that rain we got three nights ago. Me little mate slipped on accident on one and activated the alarms to go off...Red Robin heard a Gestapo soldier trailing after them and firing his gun at them. He shoved Kalina into a bush to hide her from being spotted and took a bullet in the back while saving her." The corporal explained, swallowing a knot down his throat.

"Newkirk carried Red Robin back here to get medical attention from Joe...he couldn't save him, Colonel. He had bone injuries, heart injuries, nerve injuries...there was too much that needed to be fixed in such little time...Kalina just collapsed to the ground and began screaming when he broke the news to us. She thinks he died, and it was all her fault. She even cried that it should have been her that died instead of Red Robin," Kinch said, adding on.

"Oh my God," Hogan answered, leaning against Newkirk's bunk to keep himself from collapsing. "That poor little girl...and Red Robin...he was just barely 21 years old, too. Had it not been for him, though, Kalina would be…" He could not continue without choking up. Had it not been for Red Robin, Kalina would be the one dead tonight instead. He loved the little teenager as if she was his own daughter. Knowing she could have died in Red Robin's place...he could not imagine what he would have done. He would have done the same thing he would do had it been one of his men in her position: he would have quit breathing and lie down to die.

When he had regained his calm demeanor, Hogan looked back up at the two flyers before him.

"Kinch, alert the underground and report what's happened. Take Newkirk with you so he can give the details of the ball bearing plant. I'm gonna go try and calm down Kalina," he ordered.

"Yes, Sir," Kinch and Newkirk said simultaneously.

"And do what you can to comfort Carter and LeBeau. They were very close with Red Robin, I can only imagine how they must be feeling at this moment."

Kinch and Newkirk nodded, and the three split off in their desired directions. Hogan for his room, and Kinch and Newkirk back into the tunnels. The colonel reached his room, stepped inside, and silently closed the door behind him. He found poor little Kalina sitting on his bottom bunk crying as if she were in physical pain. Hogan frowned, made his way to her side, and sat down beside her. As he tried to think of what he could say to console her, he gently rubbed her back. She turned to look up at him briefly, then began crying harder and shook her head.

The American swallowed a knot down his throat and let out a gentle breath of air before speaking.

"I was hoping you never had to go through something like this in the war...the first life you lose is always the hardest."

"Colonel Hogan," Kalina sobbed. "Colonel Hogan...oh, Colonel Hogan!"

He rubbed her back again and hushed her quietly.

"I know it hurts right now, but this wasn't your fault, Kalina. What happened was a horrible, awful accident. None of you were aware of that alarm system hiding in the ground, how could you avoid something you didn't even know was there?" He continued.

"He saved me...he died saving my life instead of his... _I_ stepped on that wire, _I_ risked the entire operation's life, why is _he_ dead and not _me_?!"

" _I'm_ glad you're alive. I don't think I would've been able to breathe had Newkirk told me you died instead. I would have _never_ forgiven myself. _Newkirk_ would have never forgiven himself. And I know Red Robin wouldn't have done so either. Your _father_ would have died himself knowing you were dead."

"I stepped on that wire...I stepped on that wire...I killed him! I killed Red Robin!"

"Oh honey…"

When the small teenager started to cry heavily, Hogan took Kalina in his arms and held her close to him. He rubbed her back and hushed her while giving her a kiss on the top of her head.

"You did everything you were told to do. Joe did everything he could to save Red Robin. This is war, hon. Not everyone makes it in war," he said. "In fact, I remember _my_ first time I had to face one of my Allies dying...my squadron was working on an assignment with a British colonel leading another squadron...he also happened to be a good friend of mine and my second in command's. Colonel Carl Rooney was his name. One of the funniest men I ever met...we were in a combat fight with a German fighter pilot, and one of the bullets came flying into my bomber hitting him in the upper abdomen...I did CPR with another colonel flying with us until we could land and get him to the hospital...but he was gone by the time they got to the emergency room...I cried the minute I reported the news to his men and saw them break down...was one of the worst nights of my life. But I eventually realized it wasn't my fault. It was dark and foggy that night, there was no way of telling where that fighter pilot came from...just like there was no way of telling there was an alarm wire hiding in the dirt when you and Red Robin were coming back to Newkirk."

Kalina, who had begun to calm down, sniffled and wiped her eyes with her dress sleeve as she continued to lean against Hogan's chest and be held in his arms.

"What did...what did Colonel Rooney's men do after they stopped grieving?" She whimpered.

The colonel gave a soft smirk.

"What do you _think_ they did; they went after that Kraut, shot him down along with a few of his guys, and now he's rotting away somewhere in a jail cell awaiting trial...and that's what we're gonna do for Red Robin," he said.

"Colonel Hogan...how do you know what to always say to make us feel better again?"

"I've lived for quite a while now. You get wiser with age, they say."

Kalina gave a small smile and lay her head back down against him. Seeing her muscles losing their tension, Hogan rubbed her back again and gave her a warm hug to make her smile grow a little more. He returned the same grin to her.

"Come on, hon. How about I make you some hot chocolate and tell you a story about my boys back in London?" He suggested.

"Can I have the mini marshmallows, too?" Kalina asked, with another sniffle.

Hogan's grin grew wider.

"With lots of whipped cream on top in your snowman mug LeBeau got you," he answered.

The little Klink gave a small smile, then she and the colonel made their way into the main area.


	9. Imbeciles

**Chapter 9:**

 **Imbeciles:**

He stood there glaring at Olsen with a parental look in his eyes. The one that said "You are in for it now, son". Hogan made sure to make it so clear of his current feelings that Olsen shifted uncomfortably on one foot to the other, his arms behind his back and hanging his head so his eyes could only see the dirt beneath his feet. He had just gotten back from an assignment meeting and exchanging notes with an underground agent and...well...it did not end well. Mostly for the sergeant himself.

As Newkirk watched the proceedings silently while leaning against the tunnel wall, Hogan put his fists on his hips and tapped his foot. When he found the power inside him to bury his growing temper down, he opened his mouth and began to speak.

"I'm gonna ask nicely once, and next time it won't be a question. What did you do?"

"Uh...well...yah see, Colonel," Olsen began. "I got to the meeting spot, but the guy wasn't there. I waited for fifteen minutes for him to show up, but he never came. I started walking a little ways passed the meeting spot to try and find the guy, when I saw Timberwolf walking around the area. He had a meeting with someone, too. And you know how Timberwolf is. You stop to have a talk with him, and you're instantly sucked down a worm hole so big that…" he was cut off by Hogan.

"I'm not asking about Timberwolf, I'm asking why you didn't come back with those important documents on this defecting Gestapo colonel."

Olsen scrunched his shoulders to look smaller and cleared his throat.

"Right...well, you see, Sir...it's actually uh, kind of a funny story. Ha! Well, Timberwolf and I had the great idea that since my guy was a no show we would go into town and grab a drink or two. Get some fresh air and a view other than of the delousing station. One thing lead to another and man, we started telling each other lame jokes and nearly died from laughter!" The man started laughing hysterically, when he saw his commander's face grow a darker shade of pink and immediately stopped. He cleared his throat and hung his head again. He coughed. "They actually weren't that funny, Sir."

"You mean to tell me you abandoned your assignment and went to a bar with another underground agent known for his reputation of never getting anything done?" Hogan asked, raising his voice a bit.

"It was the _other_ agent that never showed up. I did everything you told me to do by the letter, Sir. I even waited an extra five minutes past the waiting around time. Might I say very unprofessional work on the underground's part. You must have an _earful_ to say to them."

"No, but I certainly have an earful for _you_ to hear."

"Aw mate, you've had it now." Newkirk commented, smoking a cigarette.

"Quiet," Hogan commanded, turning to look back at his English corporal. "Or do you want a court martial, too?"

Newkirk made no response other than putting his cigarette back in his mouth and smoked it quietly. Once certain the man would not butt in anymore, the colonel turned back to face Olsen and crossed his arms. At that rate, he was raging mad. Olsen was an experienced man in the operation, and he had just done an act he would expect to come from someone Kalina's age. Even the fifteen year old girl would have stuck to her assignment like the Holy Bible. This was a twenty something year old man, though. An enlisted soldier in the United States Army Air Force. He had no excuse to abandon his given task even if the agent he was to meet with was a no show.

"If this agent never showed, why didn't you just come back to camp like ordered?" He interrogated.

"Because...uh...camp's been making me feel claustrophobic lately?" The sergeant remarked, trying to think of a reasonable case to argue. He had no idea why he was trying, though. He already knew he was in hot water with Hogan the minute he had abandoned the meeting point to go hang out with his friend. And his commander could obviously tell. Hogan knew a guilty face the minute he saw one. No one got away with anything under his watch. He had spent his entire military career making that clear to the men under his command.

"That what you want? To escape out of Germany? Should I advise Klink to have you transferred to another camp, Sergeant?" Hogan asked, with a bark.

"No, Sir," Olsen answered timidly.

"You could have exposed our entire operation because of your stupid stunt! You're lucky Major Hochstetter wasn't there to witness anything at the bar tonight! This is a world war, not some type of fun and games going on here!"

Olsen made no answer. He simply hung his head under the colonel's enraged glare.

"You are banned of all assignments for the next four months, and Private Garlotti will take your role temporarily. Maybe watching him will re-jog your memory on why you agreed to be on my team in the first place!" Hogan continued.

"Yes, Sir," Olsen answered, soft. "I apologize, Colonel. It'll never happen again, Sir."

"Now get up into the barracks and stay there. Consider yourself on parole starting now."

"Yes, Colonel." The sergeant gave a quick salute and sulked towards the ladder leading to the barracks. He was about to exit the radio room, when something seemed to go off in the man's head and looked back at Hogan. "Would this be a bad time to tell you about the girl I smuggled in here and disguised as another flyer?" He asked cautiously, ready to run like hell if necessary.

"YOU WHAT?!"


	10. Just Another Visit

**Chapter 10:**

 **Just Another Visit:**

Hogan sat on the bench outside of his barracks in the nice, warm sunshine. Spring was in the air, the weather was more welcoming than bitter, and birds could be heard singing in the trees surrounding camp. He had his eyes closed and was enjoying a brief snooze, when Kalina hurried to his side and gently shook him awake.

"Colonel Hogan," she said. "Colonel Hogan, wake up."

The American moved his head to the right slightly and slowly opened his eyes. When he saw the worried expression on the girl's face, he straightened up and opened his eyes wider. Was there an urgent message from London? Was one of the guys hurt? Was _she_ hurt? His brain was spitballing questions a hundred miles per minute.

"Kalina, what's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned.

"I just saw a staff car with Gestapo flags pull up along Papa's office. Major Hochstetter went inside there for some reason," she answered.

Hogan let out a heavy sigh and hung his head back. Great, he thought. And he had just started forgetting they were even in the middle of a war that very moment. Of course Hochstetter had to come at that moment and ruin it all for him.

"What does that crazy nut basket want _now_?" He asked, with a slight groan.

"He looked awful angry, Colonel Hogan. I'm too scared to go in there alone and figure out what's going on. _Everyone_ in the Gestapo scares me." Kalina continued, shivering a bit.

Hogan smirked and got to his feet.

"No need to be afraid of Major Hochstetter, hon. Just think of him as that hot headed uncle that always rants about his ex girlfriend at family reunions," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Kalina raised an eyebrow as her face became puzzled and looked back up at her friend with confusion.

"You mean my Uncle Bjorn?" She remarked.

Hogan chuckled.

"Yes, your Uncle Bjorn," he answered, patting her shoulder.

"He doesn't scare me then when I think of it that way...although it awful concerns me about his anger management issues," Kalina said.

"Then we better get over to your father's office and see what he wants before we have to make an intervention. And _no one_ wants an intervention with Major Hochstetter." Hogan replied, with a wink.

Klink's daughter gave a silent giggle, and the two made their way inside the Kommandantur's. The colonel placed his ear against the door to see if he could hear anything. Nothing as usual. He would just have to go with his second approach. He turned back to Kalina and put a finger to his lips. She did the same gesture in return, getting the message across. Hogan looked back at the door, grabbed the knob, and he and Kalina barged inside the inner office uninvited. He spotted Klink sitting at his desk as usual, and Hochstetter was standing before him shaking his fist regarding something. When the two German officers noticed the duo, Hogan gave a small smile.

"Sorry, Kommandant, I don't mean to intrude or anything. I had a question to ask you, though." The American began.

The major turned his eyes back to Klink and glared at the bald man.

"What is this man doing here?" He growled.

"Hogan, get out. I'm in the middle of an important conversation!" The kommandant exclaimed.

"Well, Kalina wants to know the answer, too." Hogan continued.

"If my little girl wants to ask me a question, she can do so by herself. Now dismissed."

"I just wanted to know why Major Hochstetter was here, Papa. I assume _Herr Major_ is a very busy man, he had to come out here for an awful important reason," Kalina said innocently. She clasped her hands behind her back to sell the act.

"And have that man overhear a bunch of important military information?" Hochstetter remarked, pointing at Hogan.

"Well who's _he_ gonna tell, the wall?" The young girl responded.

"She makes a very good point, you know," Hogan said, holding his cap in his hands.

"WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE?!" The major bellowed, slamming his fist against Klink's desk.

"Hogan, ask your question and get out of here," Klink ordered.

"I just wanted to know if the guards found the man that was wandering around here last night. Seemed to be spying around or hiding from someone," the American stated, starting his web of lies. It had clicked in his mind and now knew _exactly_ what the major was here for. He and his team had gone out last night to sabotage an important bridge, the only transportation route for truck drivers to deliver ammunition supply to a military unit currently taking out Allied army troops by surprise attack. It had been a huge success, and more than likely Hochstetter was here to find out if he had anything to do with it.

"What man?" Hochstetter asked.

"Yes, what man?" Klink added, rising to his feet.

"With how dark it was, I was lucky enough to see his figure moving around. Heard a loud clanging noise as I was sleeping and wanted to know what it was. Looked outside my bedroom window and saw some man carrying something while running south of here. Appeared to be in quite the hurry, too." Hogan explained.

The Gestapo officer narrowed his eyebrows and glared at the colonel intensely.

"And you happened to witness all of this from your bedroom window." He repeated, his voice carrying a clear hint of suspicion.

"Wouldn't _you_ get up in the middle of the night if you heard a strange noise nearby? That man could have robbed me of all my chocolate bars I got in my Red Cross packages. I don't have much here to live for after all," Hogan said.

"And you said he went south of here."

"Kalina saw him go that way."

" _Jawohl, Herr Major_. I was about to go and wake up Papa, but he was gone by the time I got to my bedroom door. I didn't get a chance to see what he looked like, though, or I would give you a physical description. He was about your height, Major Hochstetter," Kalina answered, with a nod.

The Gestapo officer seemed to tense at the mention of the man they spotted being his height. He turned to Klink.

"I must get back to Headquarters at once. If that man was going on foot, he couldn't have gone far," he said. Hochstetter turned on his boot and disappeared out of the kommandant's office.

Once he heard the major's car start and pull out of camp, Klink stepped closer to his American counterpart with a frantic expression to his face.

"Hogan, did you actually see someone suspicious wandering around here last night?" He asked.

"No, but it was the only way to get him out of camp," Hogan answered blatantly.

Klink was about to let his Senior POW have it, but realized he was right and kept his mouth. He took the fist he was shaking in the air and put it to his mouth in frustration.


	11. Klink

**Chapter 11:**

 **Klink:**

"Hogan, for the last time your request is denied!" Klink proclaimed. The German colonel sat at his desk with a mountain of paperwork in front of him that needed to be done and did not have time for his Senior POW's 'requests'.

"Oh, come on, Kommandant. Think of how fit the men would get for work details, think of the chances of one of my men causing trouble decreasing." Hogan persuaded, standing before the man. He had been talking with the older man for over an hour now on why his proposal was a good idea and, as usual, the kommandant was being difficult to budge. Even the mention of his daughter wanting the idea to go through was not getting to him. Where everyone else in camp found it a brilliant suggestion, Klink seemed to feel it was utterly ridiculous.

"I don't care _what_ good it would do, there is not enough room in this camp for a swimming pool!" The kommandant remarked.

"We can make room for it. There's gotta be _someplace_ with a vacant area around here." Hogan prodded.

"And what vacant area do you refer to? Should we place this pool right in the middle of the compound? Would you like to have me _swim_ to my staff car in the motor pool?"

The American imagined that image briefly, laughed internally, and just barely cocked his head to the side. Now that was something he would grab a chair and bag of popcorn to sit down and chuckle at.

" _That_ would be entertaining to watch," Hogan answered.

"Request denied. Now diiiisssmiiiiissed!" Klink replied, with a salute. He turned his attention back down at the papers before him.

"What if we got rid of the cooler? Surely that would make enough space for one."

Klink thought about it briefly and nodded ever so slightly.

"Yes, I guess you do make a point…HOGAN!"

"Great idea, isn't it, Sir," Hogan said, his usual twinkle of mischief sparkling in his soft brown eyes. He loved giving his captor grief. It brought him joy every time he heard the man bellow his name and shake his fist at him. He was also very serious about the matter at the same time, too. It would be nice if he and the rest of his men never had to sit in solitary confinement for punishment ever again. His high hopes were broken when Klink responded.

"Colonel Hogan, I have too much paperwork to get done to sit here and argue back and forth with you on such a ridiculous request. There will be no swimming pool or demolition to the cooler to make room for one. In fact, if I even hear the _mention_ of a swimming pool one more time, I'll put _you_ in the cooler! Do you understand?"

The Senior POW frowned, feigning his best look of hurt feelings. He made wide puppy dog eyes and pouted his lip.

"Get up on the wrong side of the bed, Kommandant?" Hogan whimpered.

Klink glared at the man and slowly lifted his finger, pointing to the door.

"Get out!" He moaned, raising his voice slightly.

Hogan hung his head, gave a very sloppy salute, and sulked his way out of the kommandant's office. He closed the door behind him, stood in the outer office for a moment in silence, then let out a soft sigh.

 _Well_ , he thought to himself. _Looks like it'll be a water hose and fan again this summer_.


	12. Longsuffering

**Chapter 12:**

 **Longsuffering:**

Hogan sat there quietly in his chair and rolled his eyes as he continued to listen to the two arguing underground agents on the other side of the table from him. He had been called to an important meeting by underground leader Otto Heidleman for a two day briefing on a new plan to take out a power plant in Frankfurt that was causing trouble for the Allies. The underground had recently reported its coordinates to London and had immediately received orders for sabotage. Hogan was there to help organize a ground party made up of agents in Frankfurt to take out the factory in order to completely cripple the Germans. He had arrived to the secret location in Frankfurt a few hours earlier to have the first of two meetings with the agents in charge of the project, but so far had heard more bickering than actual discussing. He continued to remain silent, like he had done so for an hour now, and listened to the two men bark back and forth at one another.

"You stupid fool! That tactic has _never_ turned out successfully for us! The last time we attempted it, four of our best guys were arrested by the Gestapo, and the other three were murdered while trying to escape!" The one agent, Markus, cried. He was a very young man, around Carter's age, with blue eyes, very light brown hair, and was extremely thin built.

"You're doing it again, you _always_ do this to me! You're not even giving it a chance!" The other agent, Konrad, remarked, his eyes flashing furiously. He was a bit taller and older than Markus, a little less thinner in body size, had blazing green eyes, and black hair.

"Because it never _works_!"

"That's because no one ever does it correctly!"

"And why should I trust your input? Your commanding officer is still being tried for treason for suspicion of purposely leading five agents into a suicide assignment."

"Oh, so you wanna go back to that again, do yah? Well, at least _my_ commander isn't having an affair with a girl working for the Gestapo."

"Who the _hell_ told you that filthy lie?!"

"It's not a lie, and you know it. I have the photos to prove it. And how I obtained it remains confidential between me and my contact."

"Why you no good, son of a…"

"May I suggest something?" Hogan asked, stepping in before the man could finish his thought.

"NO!" Both agents hollered, and returned to face one another. The response made the colonel clench his jaw shut and grind his teeth in order to not lash out at them. He was about fed up with these immature men who spent more time acting like children instead of highly trained agents.

"I oughta smack yah one side up and down the other for saying such things about my commander!" Markus spat.

"I should throw you to the Krauts for talking bad about _mine_!" Konrad spat back.

"You wanna start something you can't finish, _bananenbieger_?" (1)

" _You_ started it, _I'm_ ending it, _hitzkopf_!" (2)

" _I'm_ ending it!" Hogan barked, standing up and slamming his hand on the table. "I came here to help organize a ground party to setback the Krauts further in the war; not listen to you two holler at one another! I have a fifteen year old little girl on my team, and she acts more like an adult than both of you combined! We're fighting a war here, not just playing some stupid playground game at recess!"

Both agents froze in their spots and simply stared at the colonel with their eyes bugging out. They made no movement or sound whatsoever, as if they had frozen in time. Hogan let out a steamy breath through his nose to calm down and continued.

"Now I want you two to just sit there quietly and listen to _my_ idea for attacking this power plant. All you two have to do is follow my directions and give them to your assigned men for this job."

"But Papa Bear, he…" Markus was cut off by Hogan.

"I said be quiet! Next one who talks without permission gets a court martial, got it?!"

Markus slouched in his chair, darted his eyes down to the table, then back up at the man.

Hogan watched them for a moment longer before speaking.

"Now, if everyone's settled, I'll begin," he said, ignoring his pounding migraine. London did _not_ pay him enough to do this job. He fought back against the nausea he felt and started to explain the plan.

* * *

(1) _B_ _ananenbieger_ \- banana bender. Basically, it's telling a person they're going nowhere and doing a useless job.

(2) _Hitzkopf_ \- hot head


	13. Missing My Home In Cleveland

**Chapter 13:**

 **Missing My Home In Cleveland:**

He had been sitting at his desk for an hour now re-reading the recent letter he had gotten from his girlfriend back home. Hearing how she was struggling to make ends meet and working two jobs to pay bills, it made his heart break. Hogan had not seen his love in four years since being called to service in London, and he had almost forgotten what she looked like. What her voice sounded like, how she smelled. He had almost forgotten his beautiful Cleveland, which seemed like a far away dream in the back of his mind. The city skyline at night, the Lorain–Carnegie bridge, the art museum, the harbor, East 4th Street, he had so many fond memories of his home and growing up there. The more he thought about everything there and the people he loved waiting for him to come home still...it made him tremendously homesick. His mom, his dad, his younger brother he had not even spoken to since being shot down over Germany. Whether it was because of his busy schedule being an ER doctor or something else was beyond his knowledge. Either way, he missed the man, too. They may have drove each other crazy as kids, but they had been extremely close ever since. He wondered what he was doing at that very moment. He hoped he was doing well and not conning people like he had done in high school. He hoped that he would get a letter from him again one day.

Hogan let out a heaving sigh and placed his hand over his eyes. He did not like showing it in front of everyone else, but when alone he would express his sorrow over not being home. He wished he was home at that very moment. He hated being in a war. He had never liked fighting or violence, but something inside him at beginning of his senior year of high school called him to join the Army Air Corps. His original plan had been to go to college for four years, then go to flying school to become a commercial pilot. He had always loved flying in planes as a kid and after seeing and meeting a real life pilot as a teenager, he knew it was the job for him. To travel to different countries and have the freedom to go wherever he wanted...but his plans were put on hold when he went to West Point to become an Army Air Corps officer. He gave another shaky sigh and closed his eyes as his homesickness grew in intensity. He had almost began to drift back to his home city, when he heard a knock on his door. He turned to look at the entrance of his room and frowned.

"Come in," he said, soft.

The door opened, and Kinch made his way inside. He closed the door behind him and noticed his commander's distress. His expression became deeply concerned for him.

"Colonel," he started. "Are you alright, Sir?"

"I'm okay...just a little homesick is all," Hogan answered, turning back to look at his desk.

"Looks more than a _little_ homesick. You're sure you're alright?"

The colonel turned to face his window and let out a breath of air.

"I just...I sometimes wonder if this war will _ever_ end. We may be ahead in the war, but Germans are known for their stubbornness. They could keep fighting for another five or six _years_ for all we know," he said, his voice sounding drained.

"We all have our days of doubt, Sir. I had mine a little over a week ago. Today just happens to be _your_ day." Kinch replied.

"I feel like my life's just slipping away today...my life back home...my dream of becoming an airplane pilot, getting married...having my own kids to love...here I am stuck in a filthy POW camp in the middle of Germany instead." Hogan continued.

"I ever tell you I wanted to be a car mechanic before the war started?"

Hogan turned to his second in command and just barely smirked.

" _You_? Why am I not surprised?" He remarked teasingly.

"Open my own car garage, too. Call it Kinch's Kar Hospital. Already have the money saved up to rent out a place when I get home to Detroit. I even got Newkirk asking me for a job." The sergeant explained.

"Better keep a careful eye on him if you hire him. Might steal a muffler or two on you when you're not looking."

" _If_ I hire him. Still need a resume, cover letter, and three letters of reference from him before I can decide."

Hogan gave a small smile, but it quickly turned into a frown again. All his men were young yet, but he was pushing 32. He wondered if it was too late for his dreams to happen. Kinch had his car garage, LeBeau had his five star restaurant, Carter had a bright future as a college student, but what was ahead of _him_? Would he be able to become a pilot? Would he get to be a father like he wanted to be? He was not as young as he used to be and knew that very well. He sighed again. He opened his mouth to speak, when he again heard a knock on his door. It slowly opened, and Kalina stuck her head in to check if it was alright to come in. Seeing the long look on her friend's face, she entered inside while silently closing the door behind her and made his way to his side.

"Colonel Hogan, what's wrong? You look so sad," she said, frowning.

"I'm alright, hon...just a little homesick right now is all," he answered, feigning a small smile for her.

"Colonel Hogan thinks by the time this war ends, he won't have time to do the things he wants to do back home." Kinch explained.

"Well," Kalina began, turning back to the colonel. "What _do_ you want to do after the war ends?"

"I'd love to go to flying school and become an airplane pilot...after a few years of flying internationally, I'd love to settle down with my girlfriend and have a couple kids of my own. I always wanted to be a dad...I feel I'm too old to do any of that now."

"I think you're _never_ too old to go after something you want. Yeah, there's a war. We're all stuck in Papa's camp. That doesn't mean all your dreams are over, though. Just that it might take a little longer for them to happen than expected. You need to keep hope in these times. That's what you always tell me when I'm down."

Hogan's eyes twinkled with unshed tears, and a big smile came across his face. He was amazed with the young teenager sometimes. She was still young and had childlike tendencies once and awhile, but she was incredibly mature and wise for her age. She said things that he expected to hear from a grown adult or one of his parents. And she had taken his advice to heart instead of it being just a one time thing. Hearing her quote him word for word made his sadness melt away almost instantly.

"I _did_ tell you that, didn't I. Where'd you get to be so smart?" He asked her.

Kalina smiled back at him.

"I've got another papa I look up to," she answered.

The colonel's smile widened, got to his feet, and held his arms open. Kalina looked up at him and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said. "You and Kinch made me feel a lot better now."

"You always make _us_ feel better...why can't we make _you_ feel better?" Klink's daughter replied.

Hogan hugged her a little tighter and beamed down at her. She was right in every single way. He had to keep hope. It was the only thing that could get a person through a nasty war such as the one they currently fought. Until he could go home and see his family again, he had another one in Stalag 13 to keep him going: Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Kalina.


	14. No

**Chapter 14:**

 **No:**

"Please, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"No," Hogan answered, as he stepped out of the tunnel entrance. LeBeau and Newkirk followed after him once the entrance had been closed off again.

"Come on, Gov'nor. Please?" The Englishman asked.

"No," Hogan again said. "And before you ask again, no."

"Aw, come off it, Colonel. Why not?" Newkirk remarked, with a slight whine to his tone.

"Because I think it's a stupid idea to throw a wild party while the Kommandant is away, invite a bunch of girls into camp without going under suspicion, and bribe Schultz into renting a mechanical bull to go _with_ it." Hogan replied. The two corporals had been driving him crazy for the last half hour pitching the idea and why they should do it. They even threw in that it could be used as an interrogation tactic to find out if their guests knew of a secret munitions factory's location that Klink went to meet with Burkhalter about in Berlin. Frankly, it was the dumbest idea he had ever heard of. If Klink or Hochstetter came to camp unexpectedly and saw everything happening, they would be arrested for suspicious activity, and there was _no_ way their temporary kommandant would do anything about it. The man hid in Klink's office most of the time because he was terrified of people. Just seeing his own shadow sometimes sent him into a panic attack.

"What if we invited the current Kommandant? He could oversee things and make sure we stay out of trouble," LeBeau suggested.

"Are you kidding?" Hogan scoffed. "That man starts crying just when I come in and make a complaint."

"Might help him with his social anxiety," Newkirk said.

"Not even seeing a psychiatrist could help Colonel Baumann." The colonel commented, crossing his arms. He leaned against his room door and looked at both men carefully. He was not budging no matter _what_ they came up with for persuasion. Not after the _last_ party they had while Klink was away on business. The Kommandant had come home a day earlier than expected and had put everyone in barracks two under confinement for a week after completely trashing the recreational hall, inviting strangers into camp, and using his World War I helmet to play horseshoes with. One guy even tried to pull a move on little Kalina after getting severely drunk, and Hogan had to explain to her father why one of the guests were knocked out and tied up in a chair.

"What if we got the guards to surround the recreational hall and have some more wander around inside to make sure no mishaps happen? You know Sergeant Richter won't let us get away with much," Newkirk answered, referring to Klink's 'junkyard dog' of a guard. The man did not have the nickname Old Ironsides for nothing. (1)

Hogan raised his eyebrow while eyeing the Englishman.

"And do you think Sergeant Richter's gonna listen to anything _we_ tell him?" He asked.

"We could get Kalina to do it," LeBeau said.

"Absolutely not! I told her to not help you two with anymore wild parties after that creep from the last one got so drunk and started hitting on her." The colonel gnarled.

"We weren't gonna invite _him_ again. Just the guys in camp and some pretty _frauleins_ from town," Newkirk said, defending their idea.

"That man _is_ another guy in camp. Sergeant Ted Kessler of barracks seven. He was drafted into the United States Air Force for correctional behavior after being arrested for assaulting a woman. He was under the influence of illicit substances on top of it. Klink's arranging a trade off with the kommandant of Stalag 9 to get rid of him."

"You mean that creep _lives_ here?!" LeBeau exclaimed.

"Which gives me even _more_ of a reason to veto this party of yours. My answer of 'no' sustains." Hogan continued.

"But what if we…" Newkirk never got the chance to finish his sentence.

"End of discussion," the American commanded. He opened the door to his room and closed it, leaving his two corporals hanging their heads with disappointment.

When the door came to a silent 'shut', Hogan walked over to Kinch, who was standing near the window.

"Everything set, Kinch?" He asked.

"Recreational hall booked, and Schultz says he will see absolutely nothing this Saturday night," the sergeant answered, making his commander grin in response.

"Man, this officer's party is gonna be good. Four officers from Oflag 22 formed a jazz band and said they'd play live music throughout the night. And you've got someone to stay with Kalina for the night for me? I hate leaving her alone after everything that happened with Sergeant Kessler."

"Carter's got it all taken care of. He's taking her out bowling and staying by her bedside till she falls asleep."

"There's a _reason_ I chose you to be my second in command...you know, Kinch, I'm hosting this grand party, and I don't even have a date yet. You care to tag along and spend the night with a bunch of officers?"

"Depends. Do I have to buy you dinner and walk you home afterwards?"

Hogan smirked and shook his head.

"No...but you might have to buy me a drink every so often," he answered.

Kinch nodded with a chuckle.

"Deal. I'll pick you up at seven. And get me a nice little boutonniere to wear on my jacket. I have a rather expensive taste."

Hogan laughed and nodded.

"Fine, I will see you at seven with the nicest flower from Klink's garden. Oh, and Kinch. Before I forget," he said.

"Yes, Sir." The radioman replied.

"You wouldn't happen to know where a guy could rent a mechanical bull from, do you?"

* * *

(1) Sergeant Richter "Old Ironsides" is first mentioned in the second season episode "Praise the Fuhrer and Pass the Ammunition".


	15. Options

**Chapter 15:**

 **Options:**

Hogan paced back and forth across the barracks trying to think of an idea. _Any_ idea. One of the biggest assignments ever to come his way was tonight, and all of his men were sick in the infirmary with influenza. It had started with Newkirk, then Kinch, followed by LeBeau, and then finally it came down to Carter. Even poor little Kalina was sick in the hospital with a minor case of it. Though Wilson and Klaussner had both promised they would make full recoveries, it still left the colonel with one huge problem: who was he taking tonight to help him with the sabotage assignment?

He right away knew this was too big of a job to pull off all on his own. Blow up a German science laboratory and bridge in the same spot all on his own? He would get caught red handed before he had time to even finish wiring the second target. He needed two people to wire the lab, two more to wire the bridge, and at least one person to keep lookout at an assigned post. Who could he take, though? Was there anyone in his barracks even _qualified_ to meet the standards of his team of five? He looked at the four empty beds that were usually occupied by Newkirk, Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau and then thought about Kalina being all alone in the hospital. Her father was there with her until she got better, but she was still gone like the others. He felt alone and stumped, making him give a heaving sigh. He sat down at the table after pouring himself a hot cup of coffee and buried his face into his hands. _What do I do now_ , he wondered.

"Colonel? You alright?" A familiar voice asked.

Hogan turned his eyes upward and spotted Baker looking at him with great concern. The colonel sighed in response.

"Ah Baker, I'm just in a little bit of a rut right now is all," he answered, hoping the sergeant would leave it at that. He was sadly mistaken.

"Colonel, don't be sad. You heard Joe and Richard, they're gonna be alright," Baker said.

"I'm not worried about the guys and Kalina recovering...I know they're in good hands."

"Then what's bugging yah, Sir?"

"I have this huge assignment tonight that London wants done. Tonight or never. They want me to explode both a science lab and bridge in the same vicinity all at once...it's at _least_ a five man job...with the boys and Kalina being so sick, I have to figure out a whole different roster. I need four guys to take place for Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau. Having Kalina there to be a second lookout with me would have been ideal, but the job is doable with five total."

"I mean, I'm nowhere _near_ as good as Carter is, but I can help with wiring one of the targets, Colonel. He's shown me how to do it numerous times, I think I could do it myself if I'm looking at the wires physically."

Hogan gave a sad smile at his sergeant. One of the many things he liked about the young man. He was always willing to lend a helping hand when needed. But it still left him three men short.

"I appreciate your offer, Baker...but I'm still short three guys," he said.

The sergeant was about to speak, when the barracks door opened to reveal Olsen and Garlotti step inside the building. When they saw the long look on their commander's face, they hurried to his side.

"Hey, Colonel," Olsen said, worried. "What's wrong? You alright, Sir?"

"Klink make yah listen to him play the violin again?" Garlotti asked. It got a soft chuckle out of Hogan in response.

"I _wish_ it were that...I've got a huge assignment to do tonight, and so far I only have Baker and I to do it. I need three more men in order to accomplish the job," the colonel answered. As he finished his sentence, a light bulb turned on in his head. Olsen and Garlotti. They were trained enough to do such an assignment. They were as experienced and qualified as Baker was. He turned to look back at them again. "Olsen, Garlotti, you two think you can handle wiring bombs and being quick at the same time?"

"I don't know a damn thing about bombs, Boss, but I can finish a wiring job in two minutes tops if someone else is helping me," Garlotti said.

"I was known to be the fastest runner and test taker in high school, I can wire a few bombs together in a couple minutes or less." Olsen added.

"That just leaves me with one man missing...who else in this barracks has experience with bombs, agility, and being outside the wire? We've only got one shot at doing this assignment right, or we don't have a chance at all," Hogan stated, crossing his arms.

"Not sure about his experience with bombs, but Jeffress is a speedy guy. Knows the entire city of Hammelburg like the back of his hand, too," Olsen said.

"Baker, where's Jeffress now?" Hogan asked, looking at his assistant radioman.

"Lifting weights in the recreational hall. Should be back any minute now," Baker said.

As if saying the magic words, the door to the barracks opened, and the New Yorker himself came walking in with a cool towel draped around his neck. When he saw the four men in front of him all staring at him, he glared at them slightly.

"What? What do yah think yo lookin' at?" He asked, with a thick accent.

"Jeffress, I got a job for you tonight. If you're up to it, that is," Hogan said.

"What _kinda_ job? Not to sound impolite or anythin', but I don't take amateur duties."

The colonel smirked.

"This would be _far_ from what you consider 'amateur', my boy," he answered. "You capable of quickly wiring several bombs to one of two assigned targets for sabotage? And I mean _fast_. Like two minutes or less fast."

Jeffress scoffed, with a bright twinkle of mischief coming to his eyes.

"Yah kiddin'? Could do it in ma _sleep_. When do I start?" He remarked.

"Tonight. We all leave at 1900 hours sharp," Hogan said, then turned to face all of them. "Here's how it's gonna go."


	16. Papa Bear Being Papa

**Chapter 16:**

 **Papa Bear Being Papa:**

Hogan stood there with his arms crossed, staring both men down. He had been brought out of his quiet reading time by the loud voices of Newkirk and Carter shouting and arguing about something in particular. Though highly irritated his tranquil state of mind had been abruptly interrupted, he remained calm as he looked at both culprits. Newkirk had a welding mask on his face and flame torch in his black gloved hands, while Carter glared at the Englishman in dead silence.

"Alright," the colonel began. "What's going on here, and why are you two yelling at one another like one of you slept with the other's girlfriend?"

"Newkirk stole my welding tools, and he won't give them back!" The young sergeant accused, pointing at his current enemy.

"I need it for me Halloween costume, Colonel. I said I'd give it right back after the holiday was over." Newkirk clarified.

"I need it to make some new explosives I'm working on. Do you know how hard it is to make a fully functional bomb made with nitroglycerin without proper equipment?" Carter retorted.

"We got plenty of working bombs down in the tunnels. Why can't it just wait until after the…"

"Hold it," Hogan ordered, hushing both men. He turned to his corporal and let out a breath of air through his nose. _Lord Newkirk, what are you doing now_ , he wondered to himself. "Newkirk, what are you dressing up as that makes Carter's tools absolutely vital for your costume?"

"The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come," he said, slamming the mask down over his face. "The torch makes me more intimidatin'." He continued, muffled under the protective headgear.

As Hogan was about to open his mouth to respond, the door to the barracks opened, and Kalina came bursting in with tears streaming down her face. He quickly took notice of her and rushed to her side, taking her in his arms as she softly cried.

"Kalina hon, what's wrong?" He asked, deeply concerned. Had something bad happened? Was Klink alright? Had Hochstetter stopped by and said something that upset her? He could only wait for her to answer.

"Colonel Hogan, it's gone. I've looked _everywhere_ for it, it's gone!" She sobbed.

"What's gone? What are you looking for?"

"The Army Air Corps blanket you made for me. It's gone, I don't have it anymore. Someone stole it."

The colonel and Carter slowly turned their eyes accusingly to Newkirk, noticing a fleece, dark blue blanket wrapped around him with a familiar symbol on it for a pattern. Spotting both men gawking at him, Newkirk shrugged his shoulders up, clearly expressing he was getting increasingly uncomfortable under their stares.

"What?" The Englishman remarked.

"You took Kalina's blanket along with Carter's tools, didn't you," Hogan said, already knowing the answer.

"I needed a cape for my costume. I would have used the one on my bunk, but it's too long to walk in...I'm gonna give it back." He explained.

"You _are_ gonna give it back... _now_."

"Colonel, I…"

"Out of the question, Newkirk. If you wanna dress up as something for the Halloween party, go out and ask Schultz for his spare handcuffs. You can go as Jacob Marley instead if _"A Christmas Carol"_ is really sticking with you."

Newkirk let out a heavy sigh and hung his head, the welding mask slamming back over his face unexpectedly. He quickly uncovered his face and gave in.

"Alright, Gov'nor...not as _fun_ though." He grumbled the last part. He took Kalina's blanket off his shoulders and handed it back to the little teenager, who took it gratefully and leaned her head back against Hogan. The colonel wrapped his arms around her protectively and held her close.

"And Carter's tools." Hogan added.

"Blimey, yah _kill_ a man sometimes, yah know that?" Newkirk asked, taking the helmet off his head. He carefully handed the objects back to the rightful owner, who snatched them quickly and stormed back into the tunnels. When Carter was out of sight, Newkirk turned back to Hogan with a grim expression. " _Now_ what?"

"Help your little sister find a Halloween costume for Friday night," the officer answered, cocking his head slightly to the right. "Dad's going back to his me time now."

Hogan turned back for his room and closed the door behind him. Finally alone, he ran his hands down his face and let out a heavy sigh as he put a fist on his hip.

"Why did I decide to have five kids in the _first_ place?"


	17. Quitting

**A/N:** Whew! It has been a minute and a half since my last update! Sorry, guys. I just started my last semester of college and while the weather has cancelled several of my classes the past two weeks, I have been buried up to my head with homework. That, and this chapter was bugging me a bit. Could have gone numerous of ways with this letter, but this one kept coming to mind, so I was like "Well then. I guess I'll go with this." Hope you guys enjoy, are staying nice and warm if you're in the Midwest and northern parts of the United States, and hit me with the reviews! :D

* * *

 **Chapter 17:**

 **Quitting:**

"I know it needs to be done, and I'm trying as best as I can, but I need more time, General. That airport is more guarded than Buckingham Palace," Hogan said, using all his strength to not snap at the higher ranking officer. He had been on the radio for an hour with his commanding officer's temporary step-in, General William Braithwaite of the RAF, while General Alfred Berkman was on a week long furlough. London had ordered Hogan's team to blow up an important Luftwaffe airport that held over 70% of the planes that were currently bombarding Great Britain with air raid after air raid. Some of the planes were still undergoing testing, and many more were aircrafts with technology London had yet to figure out. There was just one problem with completing the task: his men and Kalina would be killed if they so much as _walked_ in the direction of the airport. More Gestapo and Luftwaffe men were guarding the place than they imagined Hitler was guarded. Two attempts had already been aborted due to almost being exposed and captured by the Germans. As much as Hogan explained the situation to Braithwaite, however, the general was having absolutely none of it.

" _I don't care if you need a **month** to figure it out, Colonel. I want that airport demolished and up in flames. Four of my squadrons have been severely crippled, and another one is dropping like flies due to fatal injuries sustained in our last attack! I want every Kraut in that airport dead_!" The general barked back. The colonel did not need to see the man to know he was fuming with rage.

"I'm doing all I can, General, but I can't just send my team in there shooting everybody. They'll be killed before they can reach the terminals," Hogan answered, his frustration starting to cause his muscles to tense and blood pressure to rise.

" _Your team can be easily replaced with better fit and qualified people. My squadrons **can't**! Get it done, or you'll be facing your own court martial_!"

Before Hogan could get another word out, the connection went dead, and the colonel pulled off his headset and threw it on top of the radio. He put a hand to the side of his head, a huge migraine beginning to settle in from how angry he was. He gently pounded his fist against the table. He was sick of London not ever listening to a word he was saying. Half the time he was just scoffed off with the same orders he reported that needed to be reevaluated. No matter what he did sometimes, it was not enough for the Allied High Command. Nothing he did was ever good enough, and he just wanted to quit being a colonel tonight. Throw his dog tags and crush cap in and go back home to become a pilot. At least people _there_ would appreciate what he was doing. He would not be told how bad he was doing or that he was doing a poor job flying a damn plane back and forth from different airports.

As his thoughts continued to run through his brain, and his blood pressure continued to rise dangerously fast, he failed to notice Kinch and LeBeau entered the room. Seeing their commander's current condition, both flyers became increasingly worried and stepped in further, closer to the radio table.

"Colonel?" Kinch asked, worried.

"What?!" Hogan snapped, lifting his eyes to both men.

The radioman and corporal stood there agape, both of them wearing a blank stare and wondering what they had done to upset their colonel.

Realizing what he had just done, Hogan sighed with surrender and felt his body fall limp.

"I'm sorry, Kinch...I didn't mean to go off on you like that. What was it you wanted to say?" He asked, with fatigue.

"You alright, Colonel? Something seems to really be upsetting you," Kinch said, he and LeBeau joining the officer at the table.

"Yes...no, I'm _not_ alright. I just got off the radio with General Braithwaite...I'm so sick of being laughed off and not taken seriously by the Allied High Command. Makes me feel as much of an idiot as Klink is," Hogan answered, the disgust slightly heard in his tone.

"You are _anything_ but Klink, Colonel," LeBeau argued. "Klink could _never_ match your high IQ. You are _trѐs intellegent_!"

"Maybe I should just quit...go back to London and get a stupid desk job." Hogan replied, getting to his feet and walking to one side of the radio room.

" _Quit_!" LeBeau exclaimed. "You can't quit, Colonel!"

"You're the one who makes this entire operation, Sir." Kinch added, just as baffled from their commander's response.

"Well if London won't take me seriously, who will? Crittendon certainly doesn't," Hogan remarked, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Crittendon wouldn't take a _grizzly bear_ seriously. Why do you think we always have to dig him out of a mess every time we have an assignment with him?" The sergeant asked.

"General Berkman takes you seriously. _We_ take you seriously, Colonel," LeBeau said.

"We wouldn't want another commander other than you, Sir." Kinch added.

"You think any other officer would want to put up with us?"

Hogan smirked.

"I _never_ feel like I'm putting up with all of you. There are times where you give me a few gray hairs, but never a time where I feel like I'm putting up with you," he answered.

"General Berkman comes back tomorrow from his furlough. Just hang in there with Braithwaite until then," Kinch said.

"He's just grieving is all. I would be that angry if the Krauts did such a horrendous thing to my beautiful Paris." LeBeau chimed in.

The colonel's smile grew a bit and was about to speak, when the trio heard rushing footsteps headed towards them. Kalina came bolting in, grinning from ear to ear, and her eyes twinkling as bright as stars. Newkirk and Carter came in shortly afterwards behind her, beaming just as much.

"Colonel Hogan! Colonel Hogan, I did it! I did it, Colonel Hogan, I did it!" She cheered, wrapping her arms around the colonel.

"Did what?" Hogan asked, curious.

"I got us inside the airport to attach bombs to some of the planes. That airport went out with a boom!" The little teenager replied.

"Yah should have _seen_ her, Gov. She had all those men shaking in their boots!" Newkirk added.

Kalina straightened and put on her best, angry Gestapo face.

" _Dummkopf! Wir wollen eine Inspektion machen und wir wollen jetzt rein! Ich werde Major Hochstetter auf dich zukommen lassen, und es tut dir wirklich leid_!" She barked, shaking her fist in the air. (1)

Hogan chuckled and brought her in for another hug.

"Nice job, you guys. I'm really proud of you three...I'm proud of _all_ of you," he said sincerely.

"We wouldn't have been able to _do_ it had it not been for _you_ , Colonel Hogan. Where _else_ would we learn how to trick people so well?" Kalina remarked.

Hogan's eyes twinkled in the dim lighting, and he held her close to him.

"Still feel like quitting, Colonel?" Kinch asked, wearing a bold grin.

The colonel smirked in response.

"And miss you guys take Germany down one by one? You better believe otherwise."

* * *

(1) _Wir wollen eine Inspektion machen und wir wollen jetzt rein! Ich werde Major Hochstetter auf dich zukommen lassen, und es tut dir wirklich leid_ \- We want in for an inspection, and we want in now! I will send Major Hochstetter after you, and then you'll really be sorry.


	18. Reading Codes

**Chapter 18:**

 **Reading Codes:**

It was a rare day in Stalag 13 where things were not chaotic nor busy. No incoming calls from London or the underground, no visiting Gestapo or Luftwaffe personnel wandering around, the only real excitement came from the games occurring between prisoners outside or them giving the camp guards grief.

Inside barracks two, Hogan relaxed in his quarters with a good book. He sat at his desk with his legs crossed, completely submerged into the story. As he got sucked in further and further, an unheard knock came from his office door. It opened, and Kinch stepped inside, closing it behind him. He waited silently for his commander to give him his attention, but was way too far into his book to notice anything around him. When Hogan was reading, a tornado siren could blare out into the atmosphere, and he would still not tear away from the pages of his book. The colonel was known for being a major bookworm, mystery and non-fiction being his favorite.

"Colonel," the sergeant said, knowing he had lost the man already.

Hogan remained silent, his eyes never leaving his current read.

"Colonel," Kinch repeated.

Nothing.

"Colonel," Kinch said, louder this time.

The officer shook his head and turned to look to his left. He spotted his second in command standing there watching him, then took a slip of notepad paper as a bookmark, closed his book, and sat it on his desk. He turned his chair to face the entrance of his room and placed his arms over his belly.

"Something I can help you with, Kinch?" He asked calmly.

"Otto just stopped by, Colonel. The Luftwaffe came up with a new code to communicate with one another regarding military plans and secrets. He brought their code book here to see if you couldn't figure out what everything in here means," the sergeant reported, handing over the small, sea-foam green manual.

Hogan took the book in his hands and began flipping through it while quickly scanning the pages. He frowned and narrowed his eyebrows, his mind a complete blank. A bunch of x's and black circles and several other symbols that had no meaning to them. He returned his eyes to Kinch.

"This is nothing more than a bunch of X's and O's. This a code or a never ending game of tic-tac-toe?" He questioned.

"Otto's had every one of our cryptologists try to crack it, but every last one of them hit a dead end the minute they thought they had something. He turned to Papa Bear as a last resort." Kinch explained.

"You mean no one's been able to figure out what this means? Not even our _undercover_ unit?"

" _No one_ , Sir. I even tried tricking Klink into giving me the answer, but he couldn't understand what I was doing."

"Klink doesn't understand a _lot_ of things," Hogan let out a heavy sigh. "How am _I_ supposed to figure out this code? The Luftwaffe keeps changing codes like this, and I'm gonna start having all of them mixed up."

"You want me to get Newkirk in here to try and figure it out?"

"And a professional translator if you can find one," Hogan answered, picking up the book again and flipping through it.

The sergeant nodded with acknowledgement and quickly made his way out of the private room, nearly bumping into Kalina as she made her way inside. She watched Kinch silently until he closed the barracks door behind him, then looked back at her friend and commanding officer, who seemed more frustrated than a student in math class. The little Klink made her way to Hogan's side and tried glancing over his shoulder to see what it was he was studying intently.

"What are you doing?" She asked innocently.

"Trying to figure out this new code the Luftwaffe created...but no one seems to be able to crack it yet," Hogan said, his eyes never leaving the pages of the book.

Kalina furrowed her eyebrows together with perplexion.

"Crack it?" She remarked. "Like an egg?"

It was then the colonel turned his eyes to her, saw her puzzled expression, and began to silently chuckle.

"No, not like an egg," he answered. "Just another one of our American sayings. Means figure out something."

"Oh…" she said, with an understanding nod. She became inquisitive again. "What kind of code?"

"A new one the Luftwaffe plans on using to communicate top secret military plans and information to one another. No one in the underground has been able to come up with an answer for it, so they thought Papa Bear would be able to figure it out."

"You can figure _anything_ out, Colonel Hogan. You help me figure out what American sayings mean all the time," Kalina answered, with a proud smile. She got a smirk from the man in response.

"I wish it were that easy," he said, then his eyes back to the manual in his hands. He let out a soft sigh, grabbed hold of a pencil on his desk, and began tapping it rhythmically as his mind turned perpetually. He continued on, tuning everything out around him, when Kalina noticed something correlating between the code on the page and the rhythm Hogan was tapping out. As if letters and words were beginning to appear instead of all the symbols.

"Wait a minute," she interrupted. "Do that again."

Hogan turned to her and raised a puzzled eyebrow.

"Do what?" He asked.

"That tapping you're doing. Play that code on the page as if it were a sheet of drum music," she said.

"Kalina, this is code, not music."

"I think I might be getting something though. Just do it once. For _my_ sake."

The American eyed her carefully, studying every facial feature she was expressing. Her eyes held genuine determination, as if a light bulb were flickering on and off in her head with a possible answer to their problem. He let out a breath of air and nodded. Something was better than nothing; no matter how absurd it sounded to him at the moment.

"Alright, hon; get over here," he answered, turning back to the manual.

As Kalina grabbed a pen and sheet of paper to write down on, Hogan set the code book down in front of him, grabbed two pencils for drumsticks, then began beating away on his desk, the little Klink focusing on nothing else but the dots and x's before her. She began scribbling something down expeditiously, when Newkirk quietly stepped inside and made his way over to the duo.

"You wanted to see me, Gov'nor?" He asked.

Kalina waved her left hand at him, not wanting to lose a single second of concentration. If she was right, she was getting an example message from what Hogan was drumming out.

The colonel got to the last marking on the page, and Kalina finished what she was writing. When she was complete, she read it over to see if it made sense. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped slightly at what she saw.

" _Oh mein Gott_." She gasped.

"What is it?" The colonel asked.

"Read it," she said, handing him the sheet of paper.

Hogan took the message gratefully and began reading it over.

" _Example message using this code: New military attack on Murmansk in planning known as Operation Platinfuchs. All communications regarding this attack is forbidden unless given strict instruction from Reichsmarschall Goering. Failure in following these orders results in execution under command given by the Fuhrer_."

"Operation Platinum Fox. It was a German military attack on the Soviet Union during the summer of 1941. Germany lost in result of trying to capture the Barents sea port. Papa told me that it ended in complete failure, but was an attack Germany wanted under tight security." Kalina explained.

"You mean you got all of that from the beating and tapping the Gov'nor was doing?" Newkirk remarked, baffled.

"The rhythms and number of beats in each note. The number played in each beat represents each letter in the alphabet. One means 'A', three means 'C', seven means 'G', so on and so on. Those fancy, speedy rhythms Colonel Hogan plays are letters 'J' and onwards."

Hogan smirked in response.

"Those fancy rhythms are called paradiddles and flams," he answered.

"Para who?" Kalina replied, dumbfounded.

The colonel chuckled and gave the little teenager a bright smile.

"Good work, hon. How'd you think of doing that, anyways?" He asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I had a uh...uh...an _ahnung_ and went with it...I don't remember what the English word is for it."

"A hunch? Gut feeling?" Hogan prodded.

"Yeah, that's it. A hunch."

"Well, now that we have this new code figured out, I can move on to my _previous_ mystery."

"Which was what?" Newkirk asked.

"My book," Hogan answered, picking his novel back up and opening it to the correct page. "I'm about to figure out if the wife's the killer or not."


	19. Singing

**Chapter 19:**

 **Singing:**

" _Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, and we'll all stay free_ ," Hogan sang, as he hung up his clean clothes in his locker/closet in his private quarters. His voice, although soft, was very melodic and extremely pretty. The soothing and comforting tone would make a person feel what a child would if their mommy or daddy was singing them a lullaby.

He loved music and was quite confident in his ability in playing percussion instruments, but his gift for singing was on a much more down low. He was very self conscious when it came to his singing. Even being told by others back him that his voice was beautiful made him feel as if four thousand people were staring at him. The only person he ever sang for was his best friend and past second in command Major Rick Schuerman...and that was if the major was singing _with_ him. In fact, he could hardly count all the times the two of them had done karaoke nights at local clubs and bars in both Cleveland and London.

As he finished hanging his clothes and began straightening out his desk, he failed momentarily to notice the door to his room opened, and his four men stepped inside. Their eyes were abnormally large, and their jaws hung so far that they risked falling off their faces. None of them could believe what they were seeing. What they were _hearing_! Hogan? Sing? They had never been aware that the man could not only play rhythms and beats on drums, but could sing them and melodies so...angelically.

"Colonel Hogan…" LeBeau began, in a low whisper. "Can _chanter_?"

"Boy," Carter said, slightly louder. "Colonel can sing better than Newkirk!"

The Englishman shot his best friend an irritated glare.

"I take offense to that statement." He commented back.

The American officer looked up from his papers, felt his eyes dilate in size, and straightened in position while clearing his throat. _How long have they been standing there_ , he wondered. Trying to calm himself as much as possible, Hogan plastered a professional, poise look on his face and addressed his men.

"Gentlemen," he said. "Something I can help you boys with?"

"Colonel, you can sing?" Kinch asked, speaking everyone's growing wonder.

"I thought you said you were tone deaf." Newkirk added.

"More like has _hauteur parfaite_ ," LeBeau said.

"Hotel what?" Carter asked, dumbfounded.

" _Hauteur parfaite_. It is what you Americans call 'perfect pitch'." The Frenchman clarified.

"Oh...what's perfect pitch?"

"Blimey, the man couldn't tell the difference between a trumpet and a tuba." Newkirk groaned.

Hogan raised his eyebrow suspiciously at them, acting as if they had all just taken a large dose of cocaine or some other sort of mind altering drug.

" _I_ wasn't singing. You all know I have a terrible singing voice," he lied. "The mess hall put some sort of narcotic in your dinner or something?"

"We saw your mouth moving and heard words coming out, Sir," Kinch pointed out.

"We all know it was you that was singing, Colonel." LeBeau added, crossing his arms.

"Alright, alright," Hogan said, then let out a sigh. "I was singing."

"Why did you not become a singer, Colonel?!" LeBeau gasped.

"Yeah, you could out-sing Frank Sinatra!" Carter added.

That made the colonel smirk. Right, because anyone could sing better than the man who was probably the most famous singer in the entire United States.

"I highly doubt I could outdo Old Blue Eyes, Carter. The man's what they call a living legend," he answered, putting a fist on his hip.

"Boy, you know how much money we're gonna make recording yah, Sir? You'll be running Al Jolson and Billy Murray out of business by your second tour!" Newkirk cried, daydreaming about all the green paper he would be throwing up in the air to make it rain after selling his commander's first album.

"You are not recording me and making profits off of my records...and that's an order," Hogan answered, his tone turning more serious.

"Oh, come on, Colonel. I wanna see you open for the next Glenn Miller concert." Carter plead.

"You'll see me alright...unable to _talk_ , let alone sing. It's just something I enjoy doing. Nothing I want to make a living off of."

"Just one song, Gov. One song and that's it," Newkirk said, trying an attempt to compromise with Hogan. He earned a hard glare in response, making him clear his throat and hang his head.

"Alright, Colonel," LeBeau answered softly. "No recordings."

"Now go and review the assignment one last time. I want us out of here and at that Gestapo ball by midnight," the colonel ordered.

"Right, Sir," Kinch said. He turned to the others as he headed for the exit. "Come on, guys."

The three younger flyers, though hanging their heads in depression, followed after Hogan's next in command and soon all four men were out of hearing and sight. They were soon replaced by Kalina, who was in her nightgown and pink polka dotted bathrobe tied around her. She looked distraught and worried all at once.

Hogan looked again back up from his papers, his gaze softening, then made his way to the small Klink and held her close to him.

"You alright there, hon?" He asked. "You look awful worried about something."

"Papa was supposed to be back an _hour_ ago from Berlin...he's still not here," she answered, meek.

"Maybe it's just bad traffic is all. You know the Allies air raided over Leipzig a couple days ago. I'm sure half of the roads there were damaged enough there had to be detours made."

"Papa's _never_ late, though. He's _always_ early, that's just him. Even when he's _runnin_ g late he's still on time to his destination...I'm scared. What if he got into some horrible accident? What if he got so hurt and…" She could not continue without breaking down. Seeing how distressed she was getting, Hogan hushed her and gently rubbed her back.

"I'm sure your father's just fine. He's a good driver, he wouldn't do anything stupid while operating a car. Not like he gets in and drives away after getting drunk or anything."

"It's _other_ people I don't trust. I know Papa wouldn't do anything stupid. He'd smack a person for driving drunk...I wish he were here."

"And he _will_ be. He'll be here any minute now. Maybe he stopped to get gas or something to drink. It's a long drive from Berlin to down here."

Kalina closed her eyes and still felt extremely tense to the American. Her muscles were all scrunched and knotted up, the stress was practically burning off her tiny body. Hogan rubbed her back again.

"Colonel Hogan," she said shaky. "Can you sing to me like Papa does when I'm afraid?"

The colonel smiled in response.

"Of course I can. What do you want me to sing?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Okay," he said, and thought to himself for a brief moment. What was a good song to sing to someone when they were scared? He thought of one and began to sing 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy'. His smile grew in size as he slowly saw the little teenager relax and smile a bit herself. He continued to sing to her, momentarily oblivious to Newkirk sticking in arm in with a tape recorder running. It lasted about thirty seconds, when Hogan looked up, saw the arm and started making up lyrics to the song. " _My men are gonna be the rank of private or even lower than that by the end of the night_."

The corporal quickly pulled his arm out of the room, knowing his commander would have no hesitation of making his little singing joke reality. It made Kalina look to the door, saw the last bit of Newkirk's arm fly out of the room, and gave a soft giggle in response.

Hogan beamed at the sound of her laugh and resumed singing.


	20. Tiger

**Chapter 20:**

 **Tiger:**

Lit candles, soft jazz music playing in the background, and two glasses of champagne placed on top of the table covered in white tablecloth. It was Hogan's date night with Tiger, and he had set the radio room all up as romantic as could be for a drafty setting. Tiger did not mind, though. She was taken aback the moment she walked into the tunnel room and was deeply touched by the kind gesture.

After finishing their dinner, the two began dancing to 'Moonlight Serenade' while enjoying each other's company. Tiger, wearing a light blue sweater and black skirt, lifted her head from the colonel's chest and looked at him lovingly.

"You know how to please a lady, _mon amour_ ," she said, with a wide grin.

"How would I get you to come to this drafty tunnel otherwise?" Hogan replied, with the same smile.

"It would not be hard with a handsome man like you, Robert," she cooed.

"You're not that bad looking yourself."

Hogan rest his head against Tiger's as they continued dancing. The blonde agent blushed before speaking again.

"You know what I think?" She asked her lover.

"What's that?" Hogan answered.

"I think that after this war we should go somewhere far away together. Like a quiet evening to ourselves at the top of the _la tour Eiffel_."

"I like the sound of _that_."

"I love the sound of your voice more."

"I love it when I get to kiss you someplace like this."

" _Alors embrasse-moi déjà, mon amour_." (1)

Not needing a translation, both Hogan's and Tiger's eyes twinkled like stars and were about to touch lips, when Carter came running into the room excited as a child on Christmas.

"Colonel!" He cried. "I got it, boy! I think I just had a major breakthrough in my newest bomb design!"

The colonel stood there and let out a sigh of frustration. And he was just getting into the mood. He looked over to his right and gave the sergeant an irritated glance.

"Carter, can't you see I'm in the middle of a meeting here?" He asked.

The young man was momentarily confused, then it dawned on him, and he nodded.

"Oh…" he said, then blushed. "Sorry, Sir. I'll leave you two to your meeting now." He was about to head out, when he paused in his step and turned to look back at the couple. "Did you two get to those important documents yet?"

"Carter," Hogan groaned, irritation clear in his voice.

The sergeant gave a quick salute, then disappeared back into his lab.

Once sure the two were alone, Hogan looked back at Tiger, and both smiled at one another.

"Now, where were we?" He asked.

The French agent's smile widened, and they went in for their kiss, when again interrupted by a commotion. This time it was LeBeau and Newkirk bickering over something.

"Why do _you_ get to have her? You always get the girl while the rest of us suffer!" The Frenchman accused angrily.

"Because I saw her first, and she likes me more," Newkirk answered.

"If anyone should be with Brigitta, it should be _me_!"

"Well, let's ask the Gov'nor then and see what _he_ thinks!"

Hogan let out another steamy breath through his nose and glared at his corporals.

"Oh," the Englishman said, turning red.

"Sorry, Colonel," LeBeau answered softly.

"We forgot it was your date night, Sir."

The colonel waved them off with his hand and waited until the arguing voices of both corporals faded off into the distance. He turned back to Tiger, and the two tried for a third time to kiss one another, when Kinch entered from the emergency exit and saw he was about to intrude. He froze for a moment, trying to figure out what to do in order to not interrupt his commander's intimate moment. He finally cleared his throat to get Hogan's and Tiger's attention.

The couple turned in the direction the sound came from and spotted the radioman awkwardly standing there. Knowing what he wanted, Hogan stepped away from Tiger, clearing the way for Kinch to get through. The intense glare in the colonel's eyes were more than an indication of his frustration. The radioman made his way through quickly as possible, forbidding an apology to both of them, then quietly made his way back into the barracks.

"There anybody _else_ that wishes to say something?" Hogan asked, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. A long silence indicated no one else present, then he sighed with relief and looked back at the beautiful woman in front of him. "Finally."

"How about that kiss now, _mon Robert_?" Tiger asked seductively.

Hogan's face grew a wide smile, and the two finally committed the act they had been long waiting for. They continued to kiss one another, lost in their own world, when Kalina took a picture hiding behind the tunnel wall. The flash brought the lovers back into reality and turned to find the little teenager gazing admirably at the polaroid photo in her hands. She sighed with content and held the picture against her heart.

"How romantic," she said, mesmerized.

Hogan and Tiger chuckled, then turned to face one another again and resumed kissing.

* * *

(1) _Alors embrasse-moi déjà, mon amour_ \- Then kiss me already, my love.


	21. Uniforms

**Chapter 21:**

 **Uniforms:**

Hogan had been hovering over his desk for the last three hours now trying to scrub out a nasty coffee stain on his service shirt. His leather jacket had been hung and was standing there in nothing more than his pants and a light blue bathrobe tied around him. Soap, shampoo, alcohol wipes, he just could not get the stain to come out. To his dismay, his efforts seemed to only make the dark brown spot spread more. He sighed with frustration and looked at the alcohol wipe in his hand that just barely had any residue on it. He shook his head.

"Boy, when it said 'one duty alcohol wipes' on the package they weren't kidding, were they," he said to himself. He turned back to his stained shirt and desperately tried again with a new wipe, praying that if he scrubbed long and hard enough that some improvement would result from it. Nothing.

As he continued with his failing task, the door to his quarters opened, and Carter stepped inside. The young sergeant closed the door behind him and made his way casually to his commanding officer.

"Hey, Colonel," he said, before spotting the stained, button-up shirt lying on the desk. "What happened to your shirt? Looks like someone tried to use it as a mop."

"I spilled coffee on it earlier and have been trying to get this stain out for hours. No matter what I use, it only seems to make it worse," Hogan answered, paused, then turned to face him. "Where's Kalina?"

"Oh, she's in town all day with some of her girlfriends shopping."

"Good. I don't want her to see me when I'm not completely dressed." Hogan sighed, then turned to his sergeant with a helpless expression. Maybe his scientist and demolition expert knew how to fix this problem. "Carter, you happen to know how to make something to get this stain out?"

"I've got one I've been working on for a couple weeks. Maybe _that_ could get rid of it?"

"I'll take anything at this point. I look at one more alcohol wipe, and I think I'll lose my last bit of sanity."

"Sure thing, boy. I mean Colonel." Carter picked up the shirt, folded it over his arm, then returned his eyes to the officer. "Hey Colonel, why don't you just put your spare shirt on until I'm finished?"

Hogan put a fist on his hip and let out a soft breath of air.

"That _was_ my spare shirt," he said.

"What happened to your _other_ one?"

"You remember when that German Shepherd got loose and heard the word 'attack'?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Let's just say my body wasn't the _only_ thing that suffered damage that night."

The young man nodded.

"Got 'cha, Sir," he answered.

Hogan followed Carter out of his room and into the main area. He watched the technical sergeant sit down at the main table and pull out a spray bottle that had once been used for a furniture cleaning solution.

"Just a few squirts of this, a little rub with this washcloth, and boom! Good as new." Carter scrubbed the small area with his blue washcloth, put it to the side, and his eyes widened a bit. "Uh oh."

"What is it?" Hogan asked, trying to lean forward and get a better look at things. He liked anything but the expression currently on his sergeant's face.

"Hey Colonel," Carter began. "How do you feel about wearing purple?" He lifted the shirt up to his commander and showed him how the coffee stain had spread even more and turned to a bright purple color.

Hogan turned his head to the side and back at Carter with the roll of his eyes. "Carter, I can't wear a purple shirt with the rest of my uniform. It's completely out of regulation."

"I don't get it, Colonel. It worked just fine on grape soda and gravy stains, I don't know what made this happen," Carter answered, staring baffled at the mess before him.

Hogan gave him a small smile. His sergeant had tried. That was all that mattered to him. "It's alright, Carter. Do we happen to have any spare white shirts down below I could wear temporarily? Just until Newkirk finishes sewing mine back together?"

"We got a couple Luftwaffe shirts I could take the insignias and stuff off of."

"Good. Do that and sew on the ones from my shirt. It'll be good enough for the meanwhile."

"Right, Colonel. You still want me to try getting this stain out, Sir? I can maybe figure out what happened with my stain remover and resolve the problem."

"If you're still determined to do so, be my guest. I've about had it with that stain." Hogan started for his bedroom, when he turned around and faced his sergeant. "Carter."

"Yeah, Colonel?"

"If you manage to get that stain out, look into getting that purple shirt. My wardrobe could use a bit more color to it."


	22. Values

**A/N:** Hi, folks. This is probably my shortest chapter yet, but I wanted to do something special for Bob Crane's birthday. This chapter celebrates Hogan's birthday surrounded with the people he loves at Stalag 13. Hope you all enjoy, and Happy Birthday, Bob Crane. This chapter is dedicated to you. :)

* * *

 **Chapter 22:**

 **Values:**

"Happy Birthday to you," Hogan's men and Kalina finished singing to the colonel. All five of them surrounded their commander as a double chocolate cake made by LeBeau sat in front of the birthday guy. When they were done, Hogan's face was beaming like the sun, both from appreciation and slight embarrassment. He had never been the one craving for attention and the spotlight, but today his closest friends were making sure he had nothing but. He had been able to sleep in thanks to little Kalina's excellent persuasive skills, his commanding officer had given the orders that he rest and relax, and he had received more presents than he could possibly count. New, furnished oak drumsticks from Carter, an autographed photo of Louis Prima that Newkirk managed to get off the black market, a bright blue knitted blanket from LeBeau, some drum-set music sheets of Glenn Miller's new hit back home from Kinch, and a beautiful, colored picture of him standing side by side with President Roosevelt giving him a medal drawn by Kalina. Even Klink and Schultz had gotten him something.

Hogan sat there staring at his birthday cake in silence, trying to think of something to wish for. He could not think of anything, though. For the war to be over was ringing in his head, but it would take more than a wish for that to happen. Tried as he may, nothing would come to his mind. He did not want anything. He had everything already, and it was holidays like this he realized how lucky he was despite being locked up in a POW camp in Nazi Germany. His smile widened as he came to a conclusion. Before he got a chance to tell the others, Kinch interrupted his thoughts.

"Come on, Colonel. You gotta make a wish."

"Ooooo! Wish for a romantic date with Donna Reed," Carter said.

"Ask for a million dollars in cash, Sir." Newkirk suggested.

"Wish for Barbara and I to get married," LeBeau said. It earned an irritated glance from Newkirk in response. (1)

"That's _your_ wish, you blockhead," the Englishman growled.

"And how do you know he doesn't wish for the same thing?" LeBeau remarked.

"Because you're the only one in this bleedin' barracks who's hopelessly in love with a Hochstetter."

"Wish for a puppy! Wish for a puppy!" Kalina cheered.

Hogan chuckled and shook his head.

"I can't wish for anything," he finally said.

"What do you mean 'you can't wish for anything'?" Kinch asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"There's got to be _something_ you want, Colonel," LeBeau said.

"No," Hogan answered. "I can't wish for anything because I already _have_ everything."

"I'm confused," Carter said. "Is he wishing for a date with Donna Reed or not?"

The colonel playfully rolled his eyes and continued.

"All I wanted for my birthday was to be with people I love. My friends...my family. As long as I have that, there's nothing else I could ask for. I've got a successful career, a home back in Cleveland waiting for me, good health...and I have all of you. My family away from family...even Klink and Schultz. That's all I need."

"Gov'nor, you're the most humble person I've ever met," Newkirk answered, with a grin. "Can you still wish for a million dollars though?"

Hogan smirked and shook his head.

"Happy Birthday, Colonel," Kinch said.

"We love you, Colonel Hogan." Kalina added, wrapping her arms around her second father. Hogan smiled and gently rubbed her hand.

"I love you all, too," he said sincerely. "Now help me blow out these candles so we can eat this thing."

Everyone gathered around Hogan, sucked in a breath of air, and were about to exhale, when the barracks door came open, and Schultz entered inside. The fluffy sergeant spotted the double chocolate cake with lit candles, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He licked his lips and turned to the birthday boy.

"Colonel Hogan," he began. "I hate to ask you this on your birthday, but...can I have a slice of cake?"

Hogan grinned again.

"Only if you help me blow out these candles," he said.

Schultz joined the six, and with a heart full of love and contentment, Hogan, along with the others, blew out his birthday candles.

* * *

(1) Barbara Wagner is an underground agent and the niece of Major Hochstetter. She is an original character that I created, and she first appears in my story "Hogan's Heroes: Finding the Silver Lining".


	23. Welcome, New Prisoner

**Chapter 23:**

 **Welcome, New Prisoner:**

Another speech, Hogan dreaded. Another damn speech to another new prisoner about Klink's perfect no-escape record. It was coming to the point where he could memorize and recite it to himself verbatim. He had no idea why the kommandant found it necessary to brag about his camp to every stranger that came his way, but it was beginning to be more sad than annoying. Either Klink was way too in love with himself, or he _really_ needed a girlfriend. Perhaps that could be his next assignment since London and the underground had grown quiet in the past few days.

Hogan leaned against the side of the wall, forcing himself to not fall asleep, while Schultz stood guard at the kommandant's office door. Before both of them was the new prisoner, USAAF Private Dean Curtis, sitting in the chair across from Klink's desk. The kommandant himself was pacing back and forth behind his desk, his hands clasped behind his back and wearing his signature, arrogant grin.

"I hope we are, uh, on the same page with each other, Private?" Klink continued, his blue eyes dancing with pride and vanity. Everything that he had said before that had gone in one of Hogan's ears and out the other in a matter of seconds.

The private, who was about 5'9" and had shaggy, dark blonde hair, raised his eyebrow at Klink as he watched him cautiously. His hazel eyes held nothing but deep concern for his captor's mental status. He found the bald colonel both arrogant and strange, but mostly strange.

"Uh...sure?" Curtis replied.

"Now, who are you?"

"Private Dean Curtis. Serial number G454664."

"And where are you from, Private?"

"Uh...Missouri?"

It took all of Hogan's control to not burst out laughing. That was the greatest answer he had ever heard to that question in his life. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide the grin forcing its way onto his face. Schultz, however, had less control over his reaction and let out a few snickers.

"Missouri," the fluffy sergeant chuckled.

"Schultz!" Klink bellowed, shaking his fist in the air. When his sergeant snapped back into attention and fell silent, he turned back to face Curtis. "Private, I want to know where your _base_ is located. London? Somewhere outside of London?"

"Uh, Sir," Curtis began. "I don't know if I'm allowed to give out that information."

"Just name, rank, and serial number. That's all," Hogan said.

"Hogan!" Klink cried.

"I'm just telling him what the Geneva Convention states."

"Hogan, if you're going to be a part of these interrogations, you will stand there and keep quiet unless, what do you think you're doing?" The last part Klink said to Curtis, who was caught trying to shoplift some cigars from the kommandant's case. Curtis threw them without thinking back into the little wooden box, sat back in his chair, and put a fist to his mouth as if he was not doing anything.

Once certain that the private would not try anything further, Klink turned his eyes back to his Senior POW.

"Hogan, back to your barracks, and take this comedian here with you," he said.

"Yes, Sir," the American officer answered, then made his attention to the private. "Follow me, Private."

Like a puppy on a leash, Curtis rose from his feet and followed Hogan out the door and out of the kommandantur. They were halfway across the compound, when Curtis came to a halt, clicked his heels together, and stood straight and tall while giving a firm salute. Hogan looked over to his left and gave a silent chuckle, returning the salute.

"At ease, soldier," he said.

"Sir yes, Sir!" Curtis barked.

"And you don't have to act like you're back in boot camp with me. I like to keep things informal around here."

"Sir yes, Si, oh...forgive me, Colonel. My old commanding officer kinda drilled everything we learned in boot camp into our heads."

Hogan gave a warm smile. He found the private both funny and highly obedient. Something told him this one would not give him much trouble around camp.

"I run things a little different than most commanding officers, Curtis. For example, I call you by your last name like I just did instead of by your rank," he answered.

"Really? Haven't had someone call me by name in a long time. Almost _forgot_ my name by how much I hear 'Private' on a daily basis," Curtis said.

Hogan's grin widened, and he put an arm around the young man's shoulders.

"Come on," he said. "I have a few people I want you to meet."

"Yes, Sir. I mean 'Colonel'...ahck, this is gonna take a while," Curtis answered.

Hogan smirked and escorted the private to barracks two.


	24. X-Rays

**A/N: **Alright, folks. I'm terrible with updating this story at my usual speed, and I apologize for that. With working three jobs, trying to find my first full-time job fresh out of college, and taking care of a new beagle puppy only two months old, my life can be very hectic momentarily. Especially when you throw in my attempt to writing some bigger "Hogan's Heroes" projects I hope to publish by the end of the year. Enough of my rambling, though. Just wanted to let everybody know I haven't forgotten about this story and am determined to finish it before the 2020 Papa Bear Awards...wow! 2020 already, huh? Wasn't it just 2018 not too long ago? Any-who, onto the letter 'X' in my ABC story. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 24:**

 **X-Rays:**

Hogan lay on a cot in the infirmary clutching his upper abdomen with his left hand, while the camp medic, Sergeant Joe Wilson, put up an x-ray of the colonel's rib cage and turned on the light. He pointed to the left side where two ribs seemed to fade a bit at the center for Kinch, Carter, and Kalina to see. As they listened closely to the medic, Hogan gave labored breaths, trying with all his might to not cry out in pain. His right side felt like someone was stabbing him every time he breathed and could barely speak above a loud, raspy whisper due to how much he hurt. It was his first and definitely his last time he let Klink order to him to construction detail. He hated construction work as a kid, he hated it ten times more now.

"You see these two dark spots here in the middle of each rib?" Wilson asked, turning to the trio.

They nodded.

"Colonel Hogan has two fractured ribs, and they look pretty bad. Looks like they're badly bruised, too. When he slipped and fell off the roof of barracks nine, he must have taken a pretty impactful collision with the bench below. He's just lucky they didn't puncture his lung, or we would have _really_ been in trouble." The medic continued.

Hogan swallowed and clenched his eyes shut at how much just the slightest movement made him feel.

"Last time...last time...I let Klink tell me...to do construction work," he said.

"You took a nasty fall, Colonel. You're gonna be very sore for awhile. We'll wrap your ribs up with bandages to prevent yourself from puncturing your lungs, and then I want you to take the pain medicine I prescribe you every four to six hours. If that doesn't relieve it, I'll put you on an IV with stronger medicine," Wilson told his patient.

"How long will he have to be off his feet, Joe? Will recovery take long?" Kinch asked, his arm wrapped around an apprehensive Kalina.

"He won't die, will he?" Carter added.

The question caused Kalina's body to lock up and eyes burn with unshed tears, while the staff sergeant gave a look to the young man.

"Carter," he began.

"What? It's a valid question. You know, there's nothing with being concerned of all the possibili…"

"Andrew."

"What?"

"Shut up."

Carter gave an offended glance to Kinch, then they all returned their attention to Wilson.

"Six weeks it takes for fractures to completely heal. He may get up and walk around after a few days, but any type of sport or extreme physical activity is completely forbidden until the six weeks are up. That includes any assignments that come in from London or the underground," the medic answered. "For the next three days, though, I want him to stay in bed and rest. Unless he's going to the bathroom, I don't want him to get up for any reason. And no, he won't die. As long as those fractured ribs don't puncture his lung, the worse that'll happen is he'll need an IV and cough suppressants to ease his pain."

Hogan shook his head. That was not acceptable. He had to move around. He had an operation to lead, orders to take from London, and five lives that depended on him.

"No, I...I, don't have time to...be sick," he gasped. "They need me...my boys...Kalina."

"Colonel Hogan, you have a serious medical injury. You can barely speak without being in pain, it's me who has the higher rank in these situations. I'm certain Sergeant Kinchloe can handle things for you while you're out on medical leave." Wilson protested.

"Colonel, just take it easy, Sir," Kinch added. "Listen to him, Colonel, everything will be alright."

"No...Hochstetter...Gestapo...they'll come after you...if I'm not in charge."

"Colonel, relax. It's alright. I'll call in a substitute from London while you're healing. You have to listen to Joe, though. I had a friend in high school who punctured one of his lungs in a football game. It's not a fun healing process."

"Yeah, you got nothing to worry about, boy. I mean Sir," Carter said.

"Will he be okay?" Kalina croaked, finally breaking her silence.

"If he follows my orders, he will make a full recovery. Colonel Hogan will be alright, my dear," Wilson said, a small grin forming on his face at the last part.

"Can I hug him?"

"Gently. _Very_ gently. I haven't wrapped his ribs yet. Until that's done, I need him as still as possible."

The little Klink walked over to the occupied cot and wrapped her arms around Hogan's neck, burying her face into the crook of his neck. The American officer gave a gentle smile in response and rubbed her back with his spare hand.

"Don't worry, hon," he said. "I'll be alright...you know me...not letting...a couple of ribs take me down."

"There anything I can do for you? Get you some soft pillows? Or blankets? Something to drink?" Kalina asked.

Hogan's weak smile widened a bit and gently brushed the girl's cheek with his thumb before speaking. "You...you...Carter, and Kinch are here...that's all I need right now."

Kalina returned the same smile, then lay her head against Hogan's chest and cautiously wrapped her arms around his belly, making sure they did not raise any higher. Hogan rubbed the back of her head and gave it a soft kiss.

Satisfied that the little teenager was calm now, the colonel raised his eyes to his technical sergeant.

"Carter...these x-rays...they reminded me of something," Hogan said. He swallowed before continuing. "You're the science boy wonder...would you be able...to make binoculars that have x-ray vision?"

"Gee, Colonel, I guess I could try, but it'll be pretty difficult. Why do you ask?" Carter prodded.

Hogan's smile returned. "I'm gon...I'm gonna be off my feet for a few days...they'll help...help us figure out what's in that briefcase Hochstetter's...been lugging around with him recently."

While Wilson rolled his eyes, Kinch, Carter, and Kalina chuckled at their commander's comment. He may have been sick, but he still had his ambition and determination. He was right; it would take more than a bad fall to knock out Papa Bear.


	25. Yellow-Belly

**Chapter 25:**

 **Yellow-Belly:**

"Carter, you and LeBeau will attack from the south side. Kinch, you and Kalina go to the north side. Newkirk and I will go east. The more angles we attack from, the more of a chance we have at making that munitions factory crackle and burn," Hogan said, pointing at a map of their target. The Heinrich Himmler Munitions Factory was becoming a major threat to the Allies based on Germany's increasing production rates on firearms. London had ordered Papa Bear and his team to eliminate the factory at all costs. The longer they waited for an attack, the more of a danger Germany would become to fight against.

While Hogan was determined to follow through with London's orders, his team appeared more than just hesitant. Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, some darted their eyes to the table before them, and Carter bit his thumb, his eyes never making contact with his commander. The colonel looked at all of them observantly and raised his eyebrow quizzically. "What's going on here? You guys look like I just assigned you to be executed or something."

"Might as well you have, Colonel," LeBeau answered quietly.

"That factory's more guarded than Buckingham Palace," Newkirk said, reaching for a cigarette.

"This assignment is pretty much suicide for all of us." Kinch added.

"As long as everyone follows my orders to the letter, we'll be fine as rain," Hogan promised, his voice both calm and authoritative.

"Colonel, those guys have more machine guns and rifles than an entire _army_ division." Carter exclaimed.

"They could have us all dead within minutes," LeBeau said.

"I have an idea. How about we just forget the whole thing and let London handle it themselves," Newkirk suggested nonchalantly, then took another drag on his cigarette.

Hogan's serious expression slowly faded and was replaced with a grin and soft chuckle. "You guys aren't yellow-bellied, are you?"

Kalina furrowed her eyebrows together.

"Yellow-bellied?" She asked, perplexed.

"Another term for being a coward." The colonel clarified.

"I'm not a coward. I'm, I'm...I'm...scared."

Hogan gave her and the others a warm smile.

"There's nothing to be scared of. We've done sabotage assignments like this hundreds of times, this one shouldn't be much different," he said.

"Those assignments didn't have full Gestapo squads armed with at least seven different types of firearms," Newkirk commented.

"Colonel, our chances of successfully completing this assignment are a million to one," Kinch said. "We'd have better chances at assassinating Hitler."

"What if we are shot?" LeBeau asked.

"What if you're kidnapped?" Kinch added.

"What if you're mur…" Kalina was covering her ears before Carter could finish his thought.

"Don't say it! Don't say it, please don't say it!" She pleaded.

Hogan's smile widened a bit, made his way over to the little Klink's side, then gently rubbed her back as he continued. "No one's gonna die. I know this is more risky than most of our sabotage assignments, but it is doable. Like I said earlier; as long as everyone follows my orders exactly, that factory doesn't stand a chance at surviving tonight."

"What about the guards?" Carter prodded. "What if they see us?"

"They _won't_. We'll all be dressed in our blacks and blended in with the rest of our surroundings. And if anyone _does_ see us, which they won't, it'll be too late for them to do anything. They'll be too busy trying to escape the fire roaming around them to care about us."

"And how do yah know that for certain? How do yah know one of them Krauts won't just turn around and shoot us square in between the eyes?" Newkirk asked.

"Cause I'm a colonel?" Hogan remarked. "I've made a lot of stupid decisions to learn what works and what doesn't." He returned his gaze to Kalina, knelt down beside her, and again smiled while gently rubbing her arm. "And I've learned what's safe and what's not safe to do."

Kalina's blue eyes slowly melted of worry and gave a small grin in return as Hogan patted her arm.

"You think we can do this, Colonel?" LeBeau questioned.

"I don't think, I _know_ so. You guys could take down the entire German Army if I asked you to," Hogan said, with pride.

"You're not _going_ to, are you?" Carter asked, wringing his hands with apprehension. The response he got from his commander was a soft smirk and a shake of his head.

Hogan's team all looked at one another and exchanged smiles with one another. They turned to look back at the colonel himself.

"Thanks, Gov," Newkirk said sincerely. "We needed that."

"What do you want us to do first, Sir?" Kinch asked.

Hogan beamed at all of them. The five of them amazed him more and more as each day went by. He could not have been more proud of them. They may have been afraid. They may have been nervous, but they were brave and beyond loyal. They could have easily backed out at any moment, but they chose otherwise. Ready to go and for anything that may come their way. To bring home another win for the Allies. They were the absolute dream team, and he would not trade them for anything. His boys and Kalina were the best group he ever lead under his command and always would be.

He made his eyes to all of them and began to speak.


	26. Zen

**A/N:** Well folks, my ABC fic has finally reached its end. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing all these little scenarios and times of Colonel Hogan's. But have no fear, my friends. More stories are on the way. In fact, one based on the episode "To Russia Without Love" is planned to go up later this afternoon, so keep your eyes out for it! Enough of my rambling, though. Hope you enjoy this last chapter of "No One Said Being a Colonel Was Easy". And as always, leave me a review. Compliments and constructive criticism are always welcomed! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 26:**

 **Zen:**

( _Cleveland, Ohio: December 29, 1951_ )

Retired General Robert Hogan sat in a rocking chair with his newborn daughter, Elizabeth 'Beth' Joy Hogan, as it gently snowed outside his home in the streets of Cleveland, Ohio. She was tiny and just barely seven pounds, but she was a sweetie and perfect beyond words. How she looked just like her mama with her little nose and smile. She was already a daddy's girl and snuggled her little body against his, wrapped in a fleece, light pink blanket. A wonderful Christmas Eve present she had been for both Hogan and Tiger.

When he and Tiger had returned to Cleveland a few weeks after Germany had surrendered, Hogan had been promoted to general and offered a position at the Pentagon working with the FBI. He thought about it for a few days before kindly declining the offer. He was ready to hang up his Army Air Corps uniform and put on the commercial airline one he had been yearning to have for so long. Hogan became a pilot for the still fairly recent American Airlines, and Tiger was briefly a police officer before giving birth to their firstborn in October 1947. A son named Peter George Hogan. It was then that Hogan cut back from flying nationwide to region wide in order to be home more with his wife and son. Then little Beth came along four years later, and he had taken a month off to be with his two little kids. If there was anything he loved more than flying up in the great, blue sky, it was his wife and kids. They were his entire world, and no Boeing could ever come near that. (1) (2)

As Hogan gazed down at his baby girl, he heard little feet patter coming towards him, and his face brightened even more. He could recognize those little feet patters from a hundred miles away. It was not long before four year old Peter made his way into the lounge looking for his daddy and little sister. Though Beth had slightly darker hair like Hogan, Peter was almost a spitting image of the retired military officer. His thick, black hair; his twinkling, chocolate brown eyes; his bold smile; it was like going back in time and looking at himself as a preschooler again.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Peter said, grinning from ear to ear. He made his way to Hogan's side and stood next to his father's legs. "Can we play army after Beth goes in her crib?"

"When Beth goes in her crib, yes," Hogan answered, smiling back at his little boy.

Peter briefly looked at Beth, gave her a soft kiss on the head, then looked back up at his father.

"Daddy," he began. "Why does Beth always sleep?"

Hogan chuckled.

"She's a baby, bud. She needs to sleep a lot so she grows up to be strong and full of energy like you are," he told him.

"You think she'll be a pilot like you, Daddy?"

"I don't know what she'll grow up to be. As long as you two are doing something you love, that's all that matters to me. No matter how silly it may sound."

"Can you tell me one of your Stalag 13 stories, Daddy? You always got good stories."

Hogan smirked and nodded.

"Sure thing, bud," he said. "Come on up here."

Peter slowly crawled up onto Hogan's lap, careful not to bump into Beth, then got himself comfortable and leaned against his father's chest.

"What do you want to hear about?" Hogan asked.

"Anything. I wanna be a colonel just like you when I grow up," Peter answered, his eyes sparkling with both excitement and admiration for his hero. The response he got was a soft chuckle.

"Peter, my boy," the retired officer began. "There's a lot it takes to become a colonel. More things than you'd think there were. In fact, my commanding officer even told me one thing when I was promoted to colonel. One thing I kept with me through the entire war. And it's the same thing I'm gonna tell you now."

"What is it, Daddy?"

"The most important thing to remember when you're in the Air Force; no one ever said being a colonel was easy."

* * *

(1) American Airlines, originally known as American Airways, was founded in 1926 and began operations in 1936 after changing their name in 1934.

(2) The first female police officer was Alice Stebbins Wells, who was hired by the Los Angeles Police Department in 1910.


End file.
